Harry Potter: the Sorcerer's Stoned
by FanFictionFantom
Summary: Mwahahaha...a twisted version of Harry Potter featuring Harry as a schizo, Ron as a crossdresser, and an accident-prone Hermione. Enjoy, hehehe. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter One: Rage Problems

Chapter one: Rage Problems  
  
Once upon a time, there lived the Dursleys, a bunch of people with strange first names. There was an overweight man with an enormous mustache (Vernon), a bony chick who was his wife (Petunia), and their fat porky son Dudley. They lived in some house in England. Now one day, a baby was left on their doorstep by an old man in a robe. After Vernon was finished pissing his pants, they took in the baby, whose name was Harry, and raised him as a son. However, there was no room for Harry so he was forced to live in the refrigerator. This was probably the cause for his internal angst and schizophrenia.  
  
One day, when Harry was busy bashing his feet on the wall as he had a tendency to be violent and throw tantrums, a letter came for him.  
  
Dudley came in and tried to give it to him. "H-h-harry—this l-l-l-letter came for you," he said, flab quivering in utter terror.  
  
"GIVE IT HERE, YOU CORKER!" Harry bellowed, pounding his hands on his chest. Dudley fled out the room to go masturbate in fear. But alas, in his haste to open the letter, Harry tore it up. "DAMMIT!" he bellowed and began punching holes in the wall.  
  
These letters kept coming, but Harry was too busy taking steroids to notice. Finally Vernon said, "I think we need to go away for a while so Harry can calm down and possibly lose his steroid addiction." So they all went away to this rickety cottage on a big rock in the sea. Slowly, Harry Potter stopped having the urge to take steroids, although he still had a tendency to have outbursts.  
  
Then, on his eleventh birthday, Harry was sobbing tragically on the floor when he heard a big boom and the door to the cottage got ripped off its hinges and was thrown away. A giant man entered the cottage. "I say," Harry said reproachfully, "ripping off the door like that was a bit unnecessary, wasn't it? Didn't your mother teach you how to knock?"  
  
"Listen, Harry, I'm too busy wondering how my human father impregnated my giantess mother to think about the manners she taught me," the half-giant said, frothing at the mouth dangerously. Harry edged away. "Now allow me to introduce meself. I am Rubeus Rabid, keeper of....uhhh....errr....nevermind. Ahem, I have something important to tell you, Harry. I.....am your father...."  
  
Harry said, "Er. Then how come my name isn't Harry Rabid?"  
  
Rabid laughed. "Ho ho ho, sorry, wrong Harry. Uhhh, my message for you is....you're a WIZARD, Harry!"  
  
Harry jumped up and screamed, "Get OUTTA here! SERIOUSLY??" as he shoved Rabid, who promptly flew out of the cottage, ripping a large man-shaped hole in the wall. "Oops," Harry shrugged. Of course, all this noise had awakened the Dursleys, who rushed in armed with pillows to save their beloved Harry from Rabid. Rabid, when he re-entered the cottage gushing out blood, saw the Dursleys and began frothing again. He grabbed Petunia and used her bony body as a fork to spear Vernon and Dudley, who he quickly gobbled up. There was much screaming and in the case of Harry, laughing, before Rabid explained that he was a cannibal and enjoyed human flesh very much. Then he ate his fork—I mean, Petunia, and sat down on the sofa.  
  
"Here's yer letter, Harry," Rabid said as he handed him a rather bloodstained letter. Harry wiped off the blood and read the letter. Something about some school called Hogwarts, blah blah blah. He was supposed to go buy cauldrons, eye of newts, and blah blah blah. "This is BORING!" Harry wailed. "I don't WANNA read it! I HATE reading!"  
  
To make a long story short, the two of them went and got drunk in a pub. Then Rabid said, "Let's go buy yer crap, Harry." And so they went to some alley to buy his crap.  
  
They stopped at one building that had a big sign that said "Witches Gone Wild". Harry looked in. "Rabid, where are we? What's that moaning sound? What's that lady doing on the pole?"  
  
"Uh-oh," Rabid said. "Guess I accidentally took you to Pornogon Alley instead of Diagon Alley."  
  
"D'you come here often, Rabid?"  
  
"DO I?" Rabid's eyes bulged and he frothed again. "I mean, come on, let's go before the author has to change the rating to R."  
  
In a robe shop, Harry met some guy. "I'm Draco Malfoy. I am extremely racist and prejudiced. Perhaps it is because of the giant broomstick wedged up my ass. Who knows? So, tell me: what do you prefer? Cheezits or Cheese Nips?"  
  
Harry thought. "Cheezits," he finally said.  
  
Malfoy sneered. "Everyone knows Cheezits are low class." After this extremely pointless conversation, the two wizards got into an intense fist fight and Rabid had to pull them apart. "Malfoy! I expected better of you! You know Harry has rage problemas! Why did you provoke him?" Rabid looked quite dangerous, white froth cascading through his lumpy boulder-like teeth, and he stared at Malfoy with hunger in his red eyes. "Eeeeeep," Malfoy muttered.  
  
Then Rabid and Harry went to the bank. By now Rabid was so drunk and cannibalistic (he'd eaten five more wizards and his bloodlust had soared) that he couldn't really communicate very well. "Harry summat er bloody hamburger. And tha's all you'll ever need ter know, 'Arry. Oh yeah, an evil wizard named Mortevold—I mean Voldemort, killed your parents, tried to kill you and that's how you got that scar."  
  
"Scar??" Harry asked, bewildered. Then he examined his forehead and lo and behold, there was a scar on it that looked kind of like a pear.  
  
"Yes, Harry. You are the digi-destined."  
  
"Whaaaa?"  
  
"I mean, the curse rebounded off you and hit him instead and that's how Voldemort was defeated." Suddenly, a bunch of wizards and witches came over to Rabid and slapped him repeatedly. "You're supposed to say You-Know-Who!" they whispered frantically and left.  
  
"Oh right. And do you know why You-Know-Who tried to kill you, Harry? Because of a prophecy from before you were born that said—"  
  
Immediately the witches and wizards came back, slapped Rabid some more, while saying "You're not supposed to tell him that! He's not supposed to know it till the 5th book!" They left again.  
  
"Arrgh," Rabid said, massaging his reddened cheeks. "OK, Harry, forget everything I told you about that prophecy and never think of it again, even if it may save your godfather Sirius's life and a lot of trouble and pain in the near future, alright?"  
  
Harry was about to ask who Sirius was but Rabid hit him on the head with a large pink machete, so he forgot and lay unconscious for several hours. When he came to, they continued going to the bank, Gringotts. Harry couldn't help but notice all the ugly goblins who worked there. When one of them showed him the large heaps of gold his dead parents had left him, Harry gaped. Finally he said, "That's it??? My idiot parents got themselves killed and this is ALL they left me??" He sat down and sobbed some more. Finally, he got up, took some gold, and followed Rabid to the next vault they visited. The goblin opened the door as Rabid explained, "Aye aye, important Hogwarts business, top secret, but I shouldn't say nothing. Har de har har har." The door opened. As the smoke cleared, Rabid and the goblin were looking everywhere for the top secret thingy. Harry spotted it by his ankle, and, chuckling at how smart and sly he was, grabbed it and stuffed it into his pocket. "Mwahahahaha," he cackled.  
  
"Harry? Why are you cackling in an evil manner suggesting you have just done something mischievous?" Rabid asked.  
  
"Uhhh....Just laughing at the...uhhh ugly goblins, that's it!" The goblins were very angry and threw Rabid and Harry out, so Rabid did not have the time to see the vault was empty. "Oh well," Rabid said. "I'll look next time."  
  
Before Harry went home, Rabid bought him a white owl that he named Betsy and stuffed into his pocket. Then he and Rabid stopped to have a bite. Harry ate a hamburger and Rabid ate the waiter who brought it. As they ate, Harry asked Rabid, "Rabid? All the people we met today....how come they don't treat me like I'm special? I mean, hello, I defeated that sorcerer guy, why don't they bow down to me??"  
  
"Well, 'Arry, they pro'ly dunno who ya are, har de har har har. Time to go home." Harry was still pouting about the fact that no one worshipped him, but then he realized his family had been eaten by Rabid.  
  
"Wait a sec, Rabid. I can't go home. You ate my uncle and aunt and Dudley."  
  
"Oh right. Well, I suppose I'll hafta resurrect them." Rabid barfed the Dursleys up, sewed them back together, and used his magic pink machete to bring them back to life. "I'm really not s'posed ter do magic, but necromancy isn't that bad," he winked. And then the zombie-Dursleys and Harry waved good-bye to Rabid, who was heading in the direction of Pornogon Alley, and they went home.  
  
Back at home in England, Harry sat in his refrigerator stroking Betsy, who wasn't moving or breathing—Harry presumed she was sleeping—while the Zombie- Dursleys were walking around the neighborhood with their arms sticking out stiffly eating people's brains. Harry took the top secret package out of his pocket. "Hmmm, I wonder what's in it." He unwrapped the package. Inside was a small red palm-sized stone the color of Rabid's insane eyes. "Piece of junk," Harry growled. He stuck the stone inside his pocket, where he promptly forgot about it, and fell asleep. 


	2. Chapter Two: The Hogwarts Express

Okay, people, chapter 2 is up! And yeah, I know, I forgot the damn disclaimer last time, so here it is:  
  
Disclaimer: Contrary to what some people may believe to due the absence of a certain disclaimer, I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER PEOPLE! Oh yeah, and I don't own Thomas the Tank Engine either, or McDonald's. Or insecticide. But that would be coolio. Jesus. So, enjoy chapter two,  
  
Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express  
  
Soon after his adventures in Diagon Ally, Harry received a letter by owl that was clearly written by Rabid because it was completely covered in blood. Harry tried to wipe off the blood and read the message, but even then it was hard because Rabid was kind of illiterate. The note said "Summat train erghhg September the first rowrrrr Hogwarts falygin 11:00 jabbybutt platform 9&3/4 yummmmm manflesh growrrr". Harry did not understand this at all. In the end he decided the platform number was 11 and he should be there by 9: 45, which was ¾ after 9 o'clock. After all, Rabid couldn't have meant that the platform number was 9&3/4. "Har de har har," Harry guffawed heartily at breakfast. "What rubbish!"  
  
So he turned to his aunt and uncle, busy eating human organs, and asked them, "Can you take me to King's Cross on September the first? I need a ride to platform eleven." His aunt did not reply, but Dudley came over and tried to pull off his scalp to get to his brain Harry took that as a yes.  
  
On September the first, Harry's family drove him to King's Cross in the car that had originally belonged to their neighbors, whose souls Petunia and Vernon has eaten. After five crashes and six broken mailboxes, they finally arrived and dropped Harry off silently. He took his trunk full of the crap he'd bought in Diagon Alley and stuffed a slightly purple Betsy into his pocket. Harry waited and waited. No train came to platform eleven. "Son of a—er, uh, gun," Harry yelled, throwing his trunk into the wall. "Where the hell is that friggin' train, for shitsakes!"  
  
A fat policemen came over. "What's the problem, laddie?" he asked in an Irish accent.  
  
"The train won't come!" Harry whined, now lying on the ground banging his fists against it.  
  
"Well, laddie, when you're blue, there's only ONE thing to do!" The cop pulled off his mask. Under it was a clown with red hair and white face paint. "Put a smile on, put a smile on!" The insane clown sang. Then he pulled out a machine gun and started shooting into the air. "Eeeheeeheeheee!" he cackled.  
  
"Er," Harry muttered, very confused, and edged away. In fact he edged away so much, he had backed up into platform ten. So he changed direction, edged away again, and ran into someone. Something fell out of their pocket. Harry picked it up and was about to go scream at the plump redhead woman when he saw what had fallen out of her pocket. It was a magazine called "Witches Gone Wild, Straight from Pornogon Alley" with half naked women on the cover. "Er, I think this is yours," he told the woman. She snatched it up and put it away. "Are you a witch?" he asked.  
  
"Yes" she said, embarrased. "Oh look here's your train. She shoved some teenage redheads who'd appeared out of nowhere into the wall. They disappeared through it. "Off you go!" she cried and shoved Harry through as well. He barely had time to see a small girl standing by her, whose name was Ginny, but that's OK because she is unimportant and has no personality. When he came out of the wall, he saw a large blue train with a friendly face. "THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE?!" he cried. The train smiled. "Yes," he said. "It's me. All aboard." Just then Harry saw two plastic conductors fly out of the driver's compartment. Rabid's hairy, slobbery face shot out of the window. "Hello, kids! I'll be your driver for today!" He began frothing. Harry boarded the train and sat next to one of the redhead kids that the woman had shoved into the wall, a girl with short hair and a hot pink dress.  
  
"Hey there," Harry said in his lowest voice and winked.  
  
"Hello," the girl answered in in a voice lower than his. "I'm Ron, who are you?" Harry stared in horror at the boy—girl—it?  
  
"Eh? Oh, I'm Harry Potter."  
  
"Harry Potter?!" Ron cried out, smoothing the frills on his dress. Harry perked up. Even if the only person who heard of him was some crossdresser kid, at least someone acknowledged the tragic little hero he was. "I think I remember that name," Ron continued. Then he blushed. "Aren't you the guy....did you....did we kinda, er, mess around under the table at my parent's New Year's Eve party last year?"  
  
Harry slammed his fists against his knees in rage. "No!" he yelled. "I'm—a—famous—HERO—GODDAMIT!"  
  
"Well, that's weird," Ron said. "I've never heard of you."  
  
"ARRRRRGH!" Harry yelled. Just then two more redheaded kids walked. "Hey Ron," they said.  
  
"Oh, hey. Harry, these are my twin brothers, Freddie—"he indicated the one on the left, who was wearing a striped shirt and waved at Harry, claws bursting out of his hand—"and Jason." Jason grinned evilly as he put a hockey mask over his face and pulled out a long knife. "Jason, Freddie, this is Harry Potter."  
  
"Harry Potter?!" Freddie cried. "That's amazing!" Harry grinned smugly. "However did you grow your arms back after Jason cut them off at last year's New Year's Eve party?"  
  
"Arrrrgh!" Harry cried. "I wasn't at that goddamn party! And—and—"Harry tried to find a good insult, but all he could come up with was—"and you're POOR!" Ron immediately burst into tears. Freddie and Jason brandished their knife and claws threateningly. Harry squeaked in fear. "Uh, sorry, Ron, I didn't mean it," he said quickly.  
  
"OK, we're off to go kill horny teenagers at some camp. We'll be back later," Jason said, voice muffled by his mask. He and Freddie left and Harry could breathe again.  
  
Just then, the compartment door slid open and a girl with a giant beaver on her head walked in. She sat across from them and said, "Hullo, I'm Hermione, have you seen Neville's frog?" Harry and Ron shook their heads. Ron took out his wand to polish it on his dress, and she said, "Oh, do some magic!" she cried, her gigantic front teeth wobbling. Ron waved the wand and said "Freebeaverius!" The beaver on Hermione's head squirmed frantically and pulled backwards. "Ow, what are you doing?" she cried, clutching at the beaver.  
  
"Just trying to get that beaver off your head," Ron said.  
  
"That's my HAIR!" Hermoine shrilled, and began sobbing. "You think it looks like a BEAVER?" she said through tears. Harry chose this time to point out again that Ron was poor, and Ron began crying hysterically as well. Then Harry joined in, unable to believe the fact that his only friends were a cross-dresser with scary brothers and a girl that looked like a beaver. "Waaaaaa," they all wailed together. Then ANOTHER person walked into the compartment.  
  
"Look, it's Neville," Hermione said. "Every series needs some pathetic loser kid that the hero must save from mean bullies. Huh, and I was sure it would have been you, Ron." They all began chuckling heartily at poor fat Neville Longbottom. Said chuckling kept on until they heard Rabid's voice on the PA. "Would all the—unhhhhhh—mmmmmm—overweight plump children please come to the driver's compartment?" he said drooling. Neville gave a terrified squeak and ran to the front of the train. Harry had a strange feeling that they would never see Neville again. But he forgot about all that when he saw the rat crawling out of Ron's trunk.  
  
"Eek!" Harry squealed. "A rat!" He jumped on top of Ron's head, trying to keep his ankles away from the rat. "Oh, the terror," Harry gibbered. "The utter, utter terror!"  
  
Ron said, "Relax, Harry, it's just my old rat Scabbers. Nothing suspicious, dangerous, or imposter-ish about him, no sir, nothing...nope."  
  
The rest of the train ride was pretty uneventful. Then as they approached Hogwarts, cool, suave Draco Malfoy entered Harry's compartment in a cool, suave way, all the while coolly, suavely slicking his hair back with cool, suave gel. Harry regarded him with narrow eyes—he still hadn't forgotten what Malfoy had said about Cheezits. Malfoy was accompanied by two strange looking creatures—one with eight legs and the other with horns sticking out of his head.  
  
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked.  
  
"Ha-ha-ha, Potter. I can go where I please. Oh, where are my manners?" He indicated his two cronies. "This is Crab, and this is Gargoyle."  
  
They then spouted insults back and forth, which turned into a fistfight involving Harry hurtling Malfoy through the train window into the lake and Malfoy jumping back in to strangle Harry. Matrix moves were overused and a hearty, macho good time was had by all. Then they arrived at Hogwarts, where the proper authorities—Rabid, that is, who was looking quite full—took charge and broke up the fight. Then everyone rowed across the lake. Harry waved goodbye to Thomas the Tank Engine, while Ron screamed for the engine's autograph. "Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione scoffed. "Thomas has no hands! How could he give you his autograph?" Ron's face contorted angrily.  
  
"I hate you!" he sobbed. "You crushed all my dreams!" which explains the animosity between himself and Hermione. Harry sighed in exasperation as Hermione stared haughtily at the sobbing Ron, and wondered if he could use his magic powers to go back in time and get normal friends, which got him thinking if he could go back in time and kill Voldemort while he was small and defenseless, which got him thinking the same thing about Hitler, which got him thinking that if he didn't get out of the boat soon, everyone would leave him behind and he'd die alone and stranded on the lake, which got him to get out of the boat.  
  
"Come on, then Harry!" Rabid called, blood streaking his wild beard. "Time for the Sorting."  
  
They entered Hogwarts, which was like a big castle in the middle of nowhere. They gazed in awe at the ceiling. "It's enchanted to drop knives," Hermione said. Then they all had to stop gazing in awe because of the knives raining down on them.  
  
"I hope this is temporary," Harry growled, starting to get angry again. They walked into the dining hall. Five long troughs were arranged around the room, one green, one red, one yellow, one blue, and one very large one on a raised platform at which sat a bunch of old smelly people with funny hats. One of them stood up—a wizard with purple robes and a long white beard, and merry eyes twinkling behind giant golden pilot goggles. "Rabid! So good to have you back!" he cried, and threw a long dagger at Rabid.  
  
"Great man, Dumbledore," Rabid said in awe, pulling the dagger out of his forehead and joining the old man at the Head Trough, who was now throwing fruits at the witch next to him. The witch stood up. "Welcome, first- years," she said in a bored tone and pulled out a cigarette. "I'm Professor McGonagall, yadda yadda, welcome to Hogwarts, let's have a great year, blah blah blah. Ah, ever since the house-elves went on strike we've had to cook for ourselves so you'll be eating lima bean soup the entire year." The students gave the teachers sad looks. "Whaaaat?" she asked. "They're the only things that grow here. Anyways, Rabid ate the Sorting Hat last year, so we have picked an alternate way to sort you." She lit her cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. Taking a long drag, she said in the same dull voice, "Get ready to-o-o-o-o-o-o-o RUMBLE...."  
  
A boxing ring rose out of the floor as spotlights shone down from the ceiling. McGonagall, voice magnified magically, said, "To see which house you'll be in, YOU will have to WRESTLE—a TROLL!!" McGonagall paused and looked at a corner of the ring. "A TROLLLLLL!" she said again. Then she said, "Where's the troll?" Rabid, troll limbs dangling out of his mouth, looked down in shame. "Oh, Rabid," she sighed exasperatedly. "Well, since Rabid ate the troll, I guess we need another way to sort you. Oh, god, I hate this goddamn job." She took another suck at her cigarette.  
  
After a while, the teachers decided to just sort the students with a complicated tactic: Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Mo. By sheer luck, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all sorted into Gryffindor, and the rest of the students were also sorted into appropriate houses. "Huzzah!" Freddie and Jason cried.  
  
Everyone sat and feasted. "I say, Prissy," Harry said to Ron's older brother as he took a hearty sip from his bottle, "this wizard drink is really smashing, old boy."  
  
"That would be insecticide, Harry," Prissy said. Harry, who was not good with big words and had no idea what 'insecticide' was, nodded and took another swig. All around people were eating from the troughs and drinking from the bottles on the floor. Suddenly a bunch of pearly white people floated in through the wall. Everyone gasped. One ghost with old-timey clothes and a ruff around his neck floated over to where Harry sat with Ron, Prissy, and Hermione. "Hullo, hullo, children," the ghost introduced himself. "I am Sir Nicholas, your house ghost."  
  
"Hey!" Ron cried. "I know you! You're Nearly Cockless Nick!" Nick growled at this nick name.  
  
"Nearly Cockless?" Hermione said shrilly. "How can you be Nearly Cockless?"  
  
"Like this." And Nick took off his pants and showed the Gryffindors how he was nearly cockless. Hermione screamed.  
  
"Great," Harry muttered. "Our house ghost is a sex offender." Luckily, McGonagall had located a broomstick and chased the perverted ghost out of the hall.  
  
Harry saw some guy glaring at him from across the room, at the Head Trough. He wasn't actually sure if it was a guy at all, though. It looked more like a giant hooked nose on legs. "Who's that?" Harry asked Prissy, his stomach churning from the 'insecticide'.  
  
"Oh, that's Professor Snape. He may or may not be evil, and he may or may not be trying to kill you."  
  
Harry blinked stupidly. "Waaaaa?" But then Dumbledore stood up for the speech. "Welcome to Hogwarts, children!" Then he threw his arms around and yelled "Oooooogy-boooooogy-boogy! Please don't go in the third floor corridor, and the Forbidden Forest is open for all!" McGonagall whispered something in his ear. "Oh, er, scratch that, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for all, har de har har har. Now. Let's sing the Hogwarts song, which will conveniently be forgotten and unmentioned in every other of Harry's years at Hogwarts." They then sang the Hogwarts song, which I cannot write down because I have conveniently forgotten it. Dumbledore continued, "One more announcement: I am now officially changing my name to Nancy. Now off you go for bed. Flibbergibbet!"  
  
As Harry and Ron trundled off to bed, they could hear Rabid roaring, "Great man, Nancy."  
  
Bed turned out to be a small rickety wooden cot set against the wall for each Gryffindor. Their bedroom was wide and smelly and there were dead house-elves strewn on the floor. Neville had come to bed early, looking a bit more metallic than usual and Harry noticed the nuts and bolts attaching his joints together. Neville was sitting on his cot with his eyes closed. When Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean came in, Neville slowly brought up his head and said, "Hello, fellow Hogwarts students. I am pleased with your company."  
  
"Neville?" Dean asked, bewildered. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. It made a clanging sound. Everyone looked around nervously as Neville stretched out robotically on his cot, made a beeping noise, and said in a monotone voice, "Prepare system shut down...shutdown completed."  
  
"Er," Harry said. He then spent the rest of the night reflecting on his day. But then he had to stop and throw up all over a dead house-elf when the insecticide caught up with him.  
  
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That's it for Chapter Dos! Read and review! If you don't review then you are, a—a—a thief! You're stealing! Shame on you. It's not like it's hard. A simple "Good job" or "you suck" would suffice. Toodle-oo. 


	3. Chapter Three: Hogwarts School of Blah B...

  
  
Hello, hello, chums. Here's chapter three for ya, which was harder to write than the other two because I kinda forgot what happens at this part. Hope it satisfies your tastes! Wow, it's five pages. The longest yet! Beware, there will be severe Oliver Wood bashing in this, because I cannot understand how America can be so obsessed with a guy with such a gigantic unibrow and the funniest accent I've ever heard (well except for my dad's). Enjoy!  
  
Oh yeah, the IRS hauled me off cuz I forgot to put a disclaimer the first time. So here it is. Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff. You guys should know that by now. This is so annoying. Here is my disclaimer that counts for every chapter I write: I never have and never will own Harry Potter stuff. There.  
  
Chapter Three: Hogwarts School of Blah Blah and Yadda  
  
Harry woke up the next day with blood and his esophagus pouring out of his mouth. Maybe I should go easy on the insecticide today, he thought barfing.  
  
He went to breakfast with Ron and they sat at their trough with Freddie, Jason, and Hermione, even though they hated each other. Then they went to their classes.  
  
First class was Transfiguration. McGonagall just sat at her desk sucking cigarette after cigarette. The only thing she told them about the subject was the homework assignment: transfigure sheaves of paper into packs of cigarettes and bring them to class for points. The better the brand, the better their grades would be, she told them.  
  
Then came Charms. This class was taught by a midget with a beard. He said he would teach them a special kind of magic called charms, but when Hermione asked him how charms was different from any other sort of magic, he howled in pain and burst into flames. "Why?!" he cried and then all that was left was a pile of ashes which a student nervously swept under the rug. Harry sighed.  
  
"I'm not surprised," Ron said bitterly. "Hermione has a habit of wrecking people's dreams!" Then he began sobbing again. Harry pounded his fists against his desk and screamed, "Is there anything the least bit SANE in here? Is this whole thing a SHAM?!" He stood on his desk and yelled down at them, "You're all complete idiots! All of you pathetic losers! We're supposed to be here to learn magic so we can fight against Voldemort and become heroes, you slobs! You SUCK! YOU JUST ALL SUCK!!"  
  
Now everyone in the classroom was crying and Harry danced on his desk and cackled maniacally. Meanwhile, Dumble—I mean, Nancy, and McGonagall were watching Harry in the surveillance camera. "A renegade," McGonagall said, in what she imagined a cool way, with a cigarette in her mouth. "I think he's onto us, Du—Nancy. Should I have Rabid, er, take him out, if ya know what I mean?"  
  
"Florck!" Dum—I mean, Nancy, said happily, squirting her with a ketchup packet.  
  
McGonagall took that as a yes. She pulled out her wand and magicked a walkie-talkie into the air. "Rabid," she said into it, "We have a...situation...in the Charms classroom."  
  
Unfortunately at this moment Rabid was quite drunk and could not string together a coherent sentence, let alone settle a "situation". "Errrh jadjalks flaggit pornogon," was all he could say in reply. McGonagall sighed and pressed on the PA button. "Harry Potter, would you please escort yourself to my office, blah blah blah."  
  
Harry, who'd been in the middle of a powerful speech to his now cheering audience, yelled out, "Never! You'll never take me alive, dammit!" He pulled an American flag and began waving it around. Ron swooned and threw flowers. "You can take our wands, but you'll never take our freedom! Isn't that right lads?" The 'lads' roared in agreement. Then Harry jumped out the window and onto the grounds, dashing around waving his flag. "Freedom!" he cried. "Freedom for Scotland!"  
  
Then he heard the lunch bell ring and abandoned his flag, running for the dining hall. "Lunch!" he cried giddily. "I'm so hungry!" Ron stuck his head out the window. "Don't do it, Harry! It's a trap!" he cried. "What about Scotland?" He sobbed with his head on his arms. "What about Scotland?" Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder. "He's gone, Ron," she said sadly. "And besides...we're not in Scotland, Ron. At least, not officially..." This only made Ron sob harder.  
  
By that evening, Harry concluded that the only good thing about Hogwarts was that Ron had to wear the required black robes and therefore could not crossdress anymore. The rest of it was pretty disappointing.  
  
The next morning, a bunch of owls flew into the dining hall. "Mail's here!" Ron cried as the owls landed in the troughs and gave people their mail. "I wonder why Betsy won't bring me mail," Harry wondered, prodding a purple-blue Betsy, who immediately fell into the lima bean soup in his trough. Then Harry headed off to Potions class.  
  
Not only did that giant nose-on-legs hate him, Harry discovered, but Snape hated him with A PASSION. Immediately after Harry had walked into class, Snape had leaped down from the doorway and shoved a cauldron on Harry's head. All through class, as Snape, who Harry had realized was a FEMALE nose on legs, drilled her students thoroughly in the use of itching powder, she kept throwing it down Harry's shirt. Harry ran out at the end of Potions class howling and furiously scratching his back as the giant female hooked nose giggled. Now it was time for their flying lessons. Harry met the rest of his classmates out on the grounds, wondering what sort of torture he'd be put through in this class and idly scratching his back.  
  
A witch with a lesbian haircut was standing in front of them. As the class gathered, she said, "Hello, I am your flying intsructor, Madam—er..." her forehead creased in thought. She pulled out a small slip of paper. "....Hooch?! Hooch?! What kind of stupid idiot...er, I mean, I'm Madam Hooch. Now, if everyone would please direct their gaze over to the flying devices..." Everyone directed their gaze over to the flying devices, a pile of motorized carts.  
  
"Where are the broomsticks?" Ron asked in confusion.  
  
"Ah, yes, that," Hooch nervously tugged at her robes. "Well, see, we've been having some, er, financial trouble and couldn't really afford broomsticks..."  
  
"But you could afford motorized carts?" Hermione demanded.  
  
"Oh, we didn't have to buy those. We just robbed a bunch of old people," Hooch shrugged. "Now, everyone climb into your motorized carts and say UP!"  
  
They obeyed and soon were hovering a few feet above the ground in their carts. "On the count of three, take off!" Hooch cried. "One, two—"  
  
Suddenly, Neville made a strange beeping noise. "System overload!" he said monotonously. "Sy...stem...over....lo..o...o..o...a...a...a..d..d..d... Neville began blinking and flashing, and his head whirled around the whole way repeatedly. After the class had been watching this for a few moments, he and the cart blasted off into the sky.  
  
"Hurry, go after him!" Hermione cried shrilly. Windows broke.  
  
"I can't!" Hooch cried out desperately. "I don't know how to fly!"  
  
"But you're a flying teacher! How can you not know how to fly?!" Hermione shrilled. More windows broke.  
  
"Noooooooooooooooooo!" Hooch cried, clawing at her face. Then she burst into flame. One of the students stared at the little pile of ashes with distress in their face. "Yes," Ron said knowingly, laying a hand on the kid's shoulder. "It is rather upsetting when one of your teachers bursts into flame."  
  
"It's not that," the student said sadly. "It's just that when Flitwick burst into flame, we swept his ashes under the rug. But now..." he turned his face up in horror "...now where do we sweep the ashes?"  
  
Harry was busy pondering this and watching Neville zooming around in the air and occasionally scratching his back while Hermione ran to get Professor McGonagall (for all the good that would do) until he suddenly heard Malfoy cackling behind him. Harry turned and saw Malfoy and his cronies giggle while Malfoy punched the buttons of a control pad. He hit a button. Neville turned blue. He jiggled a control stick. Neville spun wildly on his cart. Harry's thick head finally put two and two together. "Give that here, Malfoy!" Harry snarled as he tackled Malfoy's legs.  
  
"Argh!" Malfoy cried. The control pad flew out of his hands and landed pressing down on the control stick. Neville spun wildly in the sky over and over again. Harry dove for the control pad and Neville stopped spinning. Harry tried to bring Neville down using the control stick. After Neville had crashed into several walls, Harry finally managed to bring him down in a stunning dive into a pool. Neville, for some reason, emitted sparks and exploded. "Damn," Harry muttered, shoving the control pad behind his back as McGonagall arrived. "You killed a fellow student!" she roared. "Twenty points from Gryffindor!" Hermione sank to the ground and screamed "Nooooooooooo!" Harry was surprised she did not burst into flame. People here had a knack for that.  
  
Then he exploded, but only metaphorically so, not like poor Neville. "You're idiots! You're all COMPLETE IDIOTS!" he roared. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MORONS HAVEN'T DIED FROM YOUR LACK OF INTELLIGENCE YET! WHAT KIND OF SHAM IS THIS SCHOOL?! THESE TEACHERS DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE HELL THEY'RE TEACHING! YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF BUMS!"  
  
McGonagall stepped back. "A dangerous one...we've gotta be careful around him...Er, Harry, I have, er, never seen anyone handle a motorized cart so, er, smoothly." (Weee-ooo, weee-ooooo, everyone's bullshit detectors went off). "Come with me." She led him to the Charms classroom as Rabid darted into the scene and switched the charred and frazzled Neville robot with a new Neville robot.  
  
The Charms classroom was hectic and chaotic as kids cursed each other—it seemed no sub for Flitwick had been found.  
  
"Wood," McGonagall called, "I've found you a new Finder!"  
  
A boy who had been setting fire to the desks bounced out of the room. "A new Finder!" he said in delight. Harry couldn't help but crack up over Wood's ridiculous accent and his GIGANTIC unibrow. Wood did not notice.  
  
"Potter," the professor introduced him, "this is Oliver Wood, the Holder on the Gryffindor Squidditch team. Wood, this is Harry Potter. Now go explain the rules of, eh, that, uhh, game thingy to him." When the two had left, she magicked her walkie-talkie again. "Affirmative, Rabid. I've put the rebel in a life threatening position. Supposedly, Finder is a dangerous job. Tomorrow we can magic a few Whompers to break the kid's neck." Her eyes flicked around suspiciously. She allowed herself an evil cackle. "AHAHAHAHA! AAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" A student stuck his head through the doorway. "Professor, that evil cackle implies that you are conspiring and plotting."  
  
"Me? Of-of course not." She jumped through the window and the kid continued going through Flitwick's secret Witches Gone Wild mags.  
  
Down on the grounds, Wood was explaining the rather boring rules of Squidditch. "There are seven players on each team, Harry. There are the three Pursuers, two Whackers, one Holder—that's me, and one Finder, which will be your job. And there are three different balls, Bonkers, the Puffer, and the Golden Squid! The Pursuers throw around the Puffer and try to throw it through a hoop to get points, the Whackers hit the Bonkers with little bats to drive them away from their teammates because the Bonkers fly around and try to knock you off your broom, the Holder guards the hoops, and the Finder has to catch the Golden Squid! Got all that, Potter?"  
  
Harry nodded his head, even though he hadn't really been listening. He'd been distracted by the way Wood's HUMONGOUS UNIBROW had been waving around and knocking out innocent passerby. "Why's this game so bloody complicated?" Harry asked, but Wood ignored him.  
  
"Now, Harry, the Squid is the most important ball in the whole game. In fact, the rest of the team is practically useless and the game could therefore be made much simpler by just watching two Finders try to catch the squid first. Which of course is why we give this most prestigious position to an inexperienced first year who's never even been on a broom—or a hovering motorized cart. But..." Suddenly the sky became dark and thunder and lightening made an appearance as Wood loomed over Harry and said in an ominous voice... "IT'S THE MOST DANGEROUS POSITION IN THE WHOLE GAME!" Wood emphasized. Lightening flashed and he cackled like a madman.  
  
"Oh. Er, can I go now? It's lunchtime and I'm a bit hungry." The storm disappeared and Wood shrank down to his normal size again.  
  
"Sure, Harry But bewaaaaaare!" Then Wood left.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with everyone in here?" Harry wondered. Then he shrugged it off and went to lunch. However, at lunch, he was greeted with even more bad news.  
  
It all started while he and Ron were discussing Harry's new job over porcupine pudding or some other disgusting thing they eat over in England/Scotland/Wherever. "You must be the youngest Finder in five thousand million years!" Ron squealed.  
  
Harry shrugged. He couldn't see what was so great about the game. All he did was float around and catch a Squid.  
  
Ron wrung his hands. "Oh, but it's so DANGEROUS!" he squealed. Just then Hermione came in. "Hello, all!" she cried, but in her enthusiasm she tripped and knocked over the entire trough, which landed on Harry. "Oof!" he gasped.  
  
"Oh, Harry, let me help you," she said, and tried to pull him out from under the trough. She meant to use her foot to push off from the ground, but accidentally put her foot on Harry's face instead of the floor. Harry groaned in pain as he felt his jaw pop as Hermione pulled his arm out of his socket. "Glksdoakmsksdjflllllllllllrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggg" he protested.  
  
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" she wailed and let go. Sobbing, she ran out of the room, tripping on her feet and poking out several people's eyes.  
  
Ron helped Harry to his feet. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
Harry tried to answer, but his jaw had been stretched to one side during that moment and now it hung limply like that. "Gurgh gur gurrrrgi!" he cried in alarm.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"GURG! GURGGGGG!"  
  
"Uh, Harry?"  
  
"Gurg?"  
  
"Maybe you should go to the infirmiry."  
  
"Gurg? Gurg!" Harry's eyes widened in fear. The only time he'd been to the hospital was when Vernon had tried to get him neutered unsuccessfully. Even now his crotch quivered in fear.  
  
Harry ended up going to then infirmary. He'd hoped that at least the nurse would know her job, but when he came in, Madam Pomfrey said, "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"Gurg."  
  
"Gurg? What's that?" Then she noticed his jaw. Before he'd come, Hermione had tried to "fix" his jaw. Now it was so limp that it trailed along the floor. Pomfrey said, "OHHHHHH, Gurg! Why didn't you say so? Now, this might hurt..." She took out a pair of pliers and began to... "fix" his jaw. Ron could hear Harry's screams of "GURRRRRGGGGGG!" standing behind the door.  
  
Inside, after Harry's jaw had been put back in place, he rubbed his jaw and said tentatively, "Guh-guh-gurgh...er....flerbet.....flark ooo.....fank you....thank you....gurg..."  
  
After he twisted his mouth around a little, he could finally speak normally with the exception of a few gurgs. "Why couldn't you....gurggg...just....gurgggg....fix me with magic...gurggg?"  
  
"I, er, I prefer muggle methods."  
  
"Muggle?"  
  
"Non-magic people. Yes, happy happy methods." She quailed under Harry's dubious look. "Whaaaat? I'm a sadist, OK?" Harry still thought there was something very fishy going on in this school. At least Hermione wasn't here to ask questions, or Pomfrey would be reduced to a pile of ash.  
  
He walked out of the infirmary still rubbing his aching jaw. This is great, he thought. I thought out of all my friends Hermione was at least a teeny weeny bit normal, but now I can see how wrong I was. He pounded his fists against the wall in frustration. He must have been very angry because he punched right through the wall. "Hehehe," Harry said sheepishly and scampered off.  
  
Later that night, he whined about his problems to Ron. "Well," Ron said, curling his eyelashes, "You'd just better get some rest tonight, Harry. Tomorrow's the first Squidditch match. I've never seen it done in motorized carts, though. Seems rather dangerous."  
  
Harry shrugged. How dangerous could it be?  
  
---------------------------  
  
Well, that's it for chappie three. I wasn't really sure what to write because this is the only timeline I remember in Harry Potter 1: Harry goes to Hogwarts, Harry defeats Voldemort, Harry goes home. The end.  
  
Anyway, thank you to all my kind wonderful sweet friends who reviewed (jenny, abby, julia, joyce), and those who did not can go to hell.  
  
Thanx also to Lost-Magic, who not only randomly reviewed, but is the only random reviewer who actually came back and read the second chapter and reviewed again. Thanx much!  
  
Don't forget to review! The lack of reviews is discouraging. It doesn't take long, people. After all, they can take our lives, but they cannot take our reviews! Mwahahahahaha! 


	4. Chapter Four: How Hard It Could Be

Mwahahahaha...after much pressure from my friend Katya AKA Kiesha, I have finally put her in the story.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THIS STUFF. LEAVE ME ALOOOONE, IRS!

Chapter Four: How Dangerous It Could Be

Harry's motorized cart spun wildly in the air. His glasses had fallen off a few minutes before and had landed on some unfortunate teammate who was now wiping blood off his face.

Finally Harry got control of the cart and managed to keep it from moving. Hovering in the air, Harry looked around for that goddamn Squid. _Maybe then we can all get back to our cots,_ he thought fiercely. But then he got distracted by his nails. _They are so dirty,_ he thought. _Ron must be rubbing off on me._ So he sat up there filing his nails.

Wood yelled to him, but his accent was so atrocious Harry had no idea what in Hell he was saying. Then Freddie and Jason, who were the Whackers on the team, pelted him on the back with a Whomper. "Argh!" Harry yelled, dropping his nail file. "Harry, don't just sit there, find the Squid!" Jason yelled as the twins zoomed away.

Harry's schizophrenia kicked in. "ROARRRR!" he cried out. "My nail fiiiiile!" He angrily rammed his fists into the steering wheel of his flying cart. A laser shot out of the front. The beam broke a hole in the crumbling wall of the stadium. Harry blinked and then giggled, pleased with this new discovery. He shot another laser beam. It hit a metal goal hoop and ricocheted back at Harry. "Erp, he said, and ducked. The laser went behind him and hit Neville as he was sitting in the stands watching the game. Neville cried, "Enemy fire! Retaliate!" Neville stood up and shot fire out of his hands until he was satisfied and sat down again. The girls sitting in front of him burst into tears as the ashes that used to be their hair fell to their feet.

Harry decided to have some more fun with his lasers. "Outta my way, losers!" he cried, blasting several holes in the stands.

McGonagall surveyed him in her binoculars, talking and smoking at the same time. "He's a bad apple, Nancy. He's already killed five opposing students!"

"Pibbles!" Nancy grunted. He was in a bad mood because he fell in the trough at breakfast and the owls were still pecking at him. McGonagall rolled her eyes. _He's supposed to be a genius_, she thought. _What kind of genius can't even string together a sentence?_

Harry, who had by now killed or maimed every single opponent and injured several teammates, now looked around for the Golden Squid. "Where are you, my pretty?" he called in between cunning cackles.

McGonagall yelled to him through a cow that she had transfigured into a bullhorn, "POTTER, SURRENDER YOUR LASERS AND HOVER DOWN WITH YOUR HANDS DOWN. NO ONE HAS TO GET HURT." She paused and looked around at the blasted students moaning on the ground. "ER, THAT IS, NO ONE _ELSE_ HAS TO GET HURT."

"Never!" Harry cried. "We must win the match no matter what! Now where's that bloody Squid? Aha!" He finally saw the Golden Squid zooming around at the other end of the pitch. Before it flew away, he hurriedly pointed his lasers at it and took aim. KABLOOOSH! The tattered remains of the Golden Squid fluttered to the ground. Harry raised his arms above his head in victory. "We won!"

"Harry, you bloody idiot, you exploded the Squid!" Freddie cried, unsheathing his claws.

"Er...so?"

"So...does that mean we won?"

The referee, some witch they pulled off the street because Madam Hooch had burst into flame the previous day, began to shake her head and said, "No, no, the rules in the book say the Squid must be capture by the Seeker, not put out of—"

Harry stroked his lasers threateningly and she stopped in midsentence... "which is why I must declare Gryffindor THE WINNER!" she cried nervously. Harry whooped and his teammates, at last the ones who were not lying on the ground, cheered with him. He steered his motorized cart down to the ground and Freddie and Jason lifted him up on their shoulders and carried him around like that pointlessly.

That night in the common room, everyone was cheerful, as cheerful as you could be while using dead house-elves as chairs. "Gryffindor has won a match for the first time in five thousand years!" Wood cried as his huge unibrow knocked out Prissy and Seamus. "For some reason, we've only started winning since you got here, Harry!"

"Don't you think the reason you won is actually the fact that motorized carts have laser beams but broomsticks don't?" Hermione asked, but was silenced by Harry, who'd dragged his motorized cart into the common room in case anyone else disagreed with him.

Harry went to bed contented. He was in quite a happy mood. Squidditch had turned out to be the easiest game in history, and also his cot was feeling much softer than last night. So he slept easy and was merry until McGonagall broke the sad news the next morning.

"By good fortune, we have found stacks of flying carpets in the janitor's closet. Therefore, motorized carts will not be used for Squidditch anymore."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry cried. He took his fork and threw it at McGonagall. She sighed and removed it from her nose. "An attempt on a professor's life, that'll be ten points from Gryffindor, et cetera et cetera...now where was I? Oh, yes. Please welcome our new exchange student, Keisha."

A girl eating a large slice of pineapple pizza hopped out of a corner. Suddenly a DJ table thingy appeared in front of her. "Let's raise the roof raggae style, yo!" and put on Sean Paul. Everyone stared confused. They were all rather flustered by this American with her strange music and pizza. Soon she was shaking around in a perplexing way. Hermione screamed, "Oh someone help her! She's having a seizure!" But when McGonagall ran to help the girl, she slapped her back-handed. "Don't touch me, foo'! There's more pimp-slaps where that came from, bama!" McGonagall fainted in shock.

Kiesha resumed dancing to raggae and soon Nancy joined her. Everyone, including the other teachers, threw up in their troughs. "Yo homeys I think I like this shit! Jibbo!" Nancy cried.

After breakfast, Harry and the rest went to their classes. Today Harry had Herbology first, a class where they raised weeds and led them in a revolt against the flowers. Madam Sprout just sat in the back clipping her foot-long toenails. Suddenly, they noticed some movement in the greenhouse window. A fleshy blur ran by. "Hello!" Keisha cried as she ran past stark nude. Hermione looked red. "How shameless!" she shrilled, and the glass that covered the entire greenhouse shattered.

"Oh, Hermione, you're such a prude," said Seamus, who was obviously enjoying the show. Then everyone had to turn away and try to claw out their burning eyes as Kiesha's streaking partner ran by. It was Nancy.

"America rules, wangstas!" he cried. "Lobbobo!"

That evening the common room was blasting with rap music. Everyone looked expectantly at Dean Thomas. He rolled his eyes, exasperated, and cried, "Why does everyone assume that just because I am like the only black kid in Hogwarts I would know about rap music?" When everyone just kept on staring at him, he threw his book at Kiesha. She stopped in mid-booty bounce. "Oh I KNOW you did NOT just throw that at me, BAMA!"

Dean snapped, "Well, I believe I just did, uh, er...what's that thing you say? Boma?"

Kiesha breakdanced on the floor and said, "You got SERVED!" Dean, not being able to handle her Americanism, burst into tears and ran to tell McGonagall. The next day, Kiesha was expelled. Nancy sobbed all through breakfast, but then seemed to forget about it when the computers arrived at Hogwarts.

Most of the students went to the library that day to learn all about these strange computers. Harry sat next to Malfoy. Since none of their friends were around, they decided to be civil.

"Hullo, Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Just, er, swimming the fishnet." Malfoy tried to remember computer slang. Then he laughed uproariously.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I'm reading this stuff on fanfiction-dot-net. Hahahahaha, this one says I have a traumatic childhood and that is the reason why I am such a jerk. What absolute tosh!"

Harry was intersted, so he too went on "Urgh, this one has me and Hermione fall in love! Hohoho, how silly! These authors sure have a big imagination."

"Seriously. This one is all about Oliver Wood and how the author takes off his...ergh, I'd better read another one."

"Gross, this one says Ron's gay and you and him go out."

Malfoy looked astonished. "Ron's not gay?" he asked in awe. But then he was cut off when Harry screamed "ARRRRGH!" He took a giant mallet from behind his back and smashed every single computer. When he was done and wiping sweat from his forehead, Malfoy tentatively asked, "What was that all about?"

Harry replied, "That one said I am a schizo! Damn you, Fanfictionfantom! Damn you!"

And that was the end of computers at Hogwarts. And American exchange students. And, much to Harry's dismay, flying motorized carts.

The next day at breakfast, Ron was reading the Daily Privy, the wizarding newspaper. "Oh my god!" Ron squealed. "Harry! Harry, look at this!" He held out the paper to Harry and Harry read the featured article very slowly. Then he gasped. "I don't believe it!"

Ron said, "I know! A half-off sale at Claire's! I like can't wait!"

"NO!" Harry roared. He grabbed Ron's shirt front and pulled him back in front of the article. "Look! Gringotts was robbed. And it was the vault me and Rabid had visited. What does this mean? I mean, when we walked in, there was nothing there except one little package and the couldn't have stolen that because I—oh."

"What? Why couldn't they have stolen it?"

"Er, because, er, I...took it..."

"What? Harry, don't you see what this mean?"

"...No."

"You're the thief!"

"Oh. Crap. Well, don't tell. Why didn't they notice until now?"

"Well, you did say it was tiny. What was in there anyway?"

"Ah," Harry rolled his eyes. "Just some rock thingy. Nothing important that some crazy maniac would try to break into the school and try to maim me for, har de har har har. "

And after that, Harry kind of forgot all about the rock once again. Especially since Betsy had once again fallen into his trough and he had to pick rotting feathers out of his lima bean soup.

------------------

Haha sorry if I was kinda random, like I said, I don't remember much of what happens in what order. Am I missing something?

Thanx to all my reviewers: my friends Jenny, Abby, Julia, Katya, Joyce, and all my others who reviewed the last monstrosity, I mean, chapter: Sophiethedevil, Brick retarded weatherman (Hehehe not sure what scrumtrulescent means, but I hope it's a good thing),Basketball-Football-Chick, Cat, Random-Reviewer (I loved your comment, it makes me feel good to have the power to make people far far away choke on their carrots mwahahaha), thelastsilmaril, broken.wings, and kathryn.

You guys have no idea how good it makes me feel to read about how my story makes you fall out of your chairs laughing and such. Just know that it makes me feel very very very very very good and I can't stop grinning. And therefore if you don't review, you are a cold heartless person and deserve to get locked in a dungeon and tortured by tickling. Meanies. Now review, it's my motivation to continue this monstrosity, I mean, parody.


	5. Chapter Five: A Good Ole Fashioned Hallo...

Sniffle...I have decided to continue the story, even though I only got four reviews for the last chapter. I'm sure you'll all be good now and review, or else I'll have to give it up, and we don't want that, do we? Thanx very very mucho to the few people who actually reviewed: Jenny, my genius pal who introduced me to this place, Katya, AKA Kiesha Bodiesha, Scottyboi, Kalira, and Courtney. Thanx also to Lily the Looter, who reviewed Chappie the third and I kinda forgot to thank her (hehe...sorry...)

God, these are ticking me off, and I'm only on chapter five! Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff, or else I wouldn't be writing it here, would I, bright ones? Anyway, enjoy Chappie the Cinco.

Chapter Five: Good Ole Fashioned Halloween

Ever since Harry had won the Squidditch match, he'd become popular. No longer did people look on him as the nerdy schizo with taped glasses. Now they saw him as a nerdy shizo with taped glasses who had won them a Squidditch game. The Gryffindors loved him and the Slytherins hated him. Harry was slightly cheered and half forgot that the whole school was a sham with troughs and cots and that if Voldemort attacked they would all be dead as doornails. He once expressed his fears to Prissy, but all Prissy said was, "Everyone knows the only one You-know-who is afraid of is Nancy."

"Well, of course he's afraid of him, everyone is!" Harry muttered darkly. "Yesterday he yelled 'spigot' at me and I shit my pants."

"Oh, Harry, chum, don't worry about it! After all, Voldemort disappeared a decade ago and is probably never ever coming back. Never."

"But he has to! Or else I'll never be able to become a hero! Neverrrrrrrr!" Harry wailed. He would have kept on wailing but then the lunch bell rang and he hopped up and ran to the dining hall. "Food! Food!" He had developed a strange obsession with lima bean soup.

Halloween morning, Harry arose and donned his pirate costume. "Yarrrr, mateys! Avast ahoy she blows!" The costume came complete with a swashbuckling sword and Harry taped Betsy onto his shoulder instead of a parrot. When he came to breakfast, Ron said, "What are you wearing?" Coming from Ron, that said a lot.

"Der, my Halloween costume. Let's go and egg the school tonight."

Freddie and Jason sat down next to them. "Egg the school? But Harry, we don't egg the school," Jason said.

"We should at least go trick-or-treating!" Harry cried

"Har de har har har! Trick or treating? Harry, we don't do these American things. We do things like feast and make pumpkins fly."

Harry overturned the trough. "What's the matter with you people?! Feast? What are we, great lords of the twelfth century or something?!"

"Calm down, Harry. It's what wizards do," Freddie said amiably.

"WELL, MAYBE WIZARDS SUCK!" Harry roared, his face gone veiny and purple. Freddie frowned and unsheathed his claws. "You might wanna watch what you say about us, Harry," Freddie threatened. Jason nodded and they left.

Soon Harry came to grips with the fact that he would not be trick-or-treating that year. He still refused to take off his pirate costume. That evening at the feast, Nancy had prepared a special treat for them. Instead of lima bean soup, the students found rotten pumpkin mash in their troughs and pumpkin juice in their bottles. Jack o'lanterns with twisted, morbid faces carved by Professor Sprout floated above the troughs. Professor Sprout, missing one arm and three toes and wearing an eye-patch, sat at the Head Trough next to Nancy, who was acting festive by wearing bright orange robes and half a rotten jack o' lantern on his head. McGonagall's walkie-talkie was now orange and Rabid celebrated by eating twice the usual amount of manflesh. Snape, the she-nose on legs, was wearing black robes as usual. At least, that's what it seemed like to Harry, who could not see much of Snape other than her giant hooked nose.

"Stork!" Nancy cried in welcome. "Thank you all for attending our Halloween feast! We will have lots of fun tonight, children. I have a special surprise planned! Please welcome, straight from his mountain home, Monty the Entertaining Troll!"

The doors to the dining hall opened, but it was not a troll that came through them. It was a queasy guy in a turban that the author forgot about in the first chapter and therefore remains nameless. Harry thought he might have some classes with him, but he wasn't sure. "M-m-m-monty's g-g-g-g-gone c-c-c-c-c-crazy! I-I-I-I think he's b-b-been b-b-brainwashed!" the man stuttered. Everyone stared at him blankly, not understanding a word he said due to his stutter. He sighed in exasperation, and said very very slowly, "Monty's...gone...c-crazy...I think...h-he's been...b-brainwashed."

Nancy shrieked and jumped on McGonagall's head. Harry did likewise, except he jumped onto Ron's head which was closer and more convenient. "Eat me last, eat me last!" Nancy squealed as the stuttering man fainted in a feminine way and Rabid said proudly, "Great man, Nancy." McGonagall sighed, put out her cigarette, lit a new one, and said in a monotone voice, "Everybody calm down. Please go back to your houses till we get Monty under control. I assure you, there is no need to relax—I mean, panic."

As all the students panicked and ran to their houses shrieking, Harry's chest puffed up and he said with pride, "Finally, a chance to prove myself as the tragic hero I am!" He skipped gleefully toward the troll's dressing room, which was on the third floor near a certain corridor that the author forgot to mention even though it was extremely important to the plot of the original book. Ron rolled his eyes and followed Harry.

Harry knew the troll was about, from the horrid stench and the sounds of smashing and walloping. But before he found the troll, he and Ron saw Snape walking around very suspiciously. But what was even more suspicious about Snape was there was a giant gash in her leg.

"How mysterious," Harry said to Ron. "Maybe we should see what she's been up to."

"OK, but I need to go freshen up first," Ron said. Harry snarled, but followed him into the bathroom. "Er, Ron, this is the _girl's_ bathroom..."

"So?"

"Nevermind," Harry replied, wondering yet again what he had done to deserve the weirdest friends in school.

When the duo entered the bathroom, they saw Hermione injecting a needle into her arm. "It's not what you think!" she cried when she saw them gaping at her. "It's my klutz medicine! I have to take it to prevent myself from complete accident prone-ness!"

Harry and Ron looked at her, skeptical. "Er, right," Harry rolled his eyes. "Really, Hermione, you could have made up a better excuse. Anti-klutziness medicine?"

"Hey, what's that noise?" Ron asked. Harry listened. Someone was knocking at the door.

Harry went to the door and answered it. "Yes?" he asked pleasantly. Then he realized it was the troll. Suddenly Harry exclaimed, "Yes! My chance to prove myself! Fight you blackguard!"

"Please—help!" Monty said sluggishly. "Cannot—find—makeup—kit..."

"Here, have mine," Ron said sweetly as he offered the troll his pink kit with hearts on it. As the troll reached out to grab it, Harry cried, "Now you've gone too far! How dare you try to hurt my friends!"

"But—"Monty started in defense, but it was too late. Harry had stuck his wand up the troll's nose. "Owie!" the troll cried and burst into tears. Harry pulled his wand out and said delightedly, "Troll bogies!" as he licked them off the wand.

"Urgh, Harry! That's so gross!" Ron wrinkled his nose and threw the troll's club, which appeared out of thin air, at Harry. His aim was a little off though, because it hit Monty instead. Someone clapped. The three swung around to see Nancy and a bunch of teachers in the doorway. "Bravo! Floop!" Nancy cried. "Ron, for subduing an angry troll ALL BY YOURSELF I award you this medal of honor!" And he awarded him that medal of honor. "It was nothing, really!" Ron protested. "He just wanted some make-up, that's—"

Harry roared and punched his fists into the wall. No one noticed, as Ron was the center of attention. When the Daily Privy turned up to photograph him, it was the last straw for Harry. "BUT HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! ALL HE DID WAS THROW A CLUB AT ME AND MISS! THIS IS SO UNFAIR! I'M THE HERO! ME!" Everyone backed up. "Harry, calm down," McGonagall said edgily.

"NO! NO! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I REFUSE! THIS IS COMPLETELY—COMPLETELY—er, did I say unfair already?" They nodded. "Well...then it's double unfair!"

"What I want to know is why you three were in the bathroom during Monty's rampage," McGonagall demanded. Hermione hurriedly put her syringe behind her back.

"Uhh...well...Hermione was in danger, so we, uhh, rescued...her.." Harry stuttered.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, for rescuing the life of another student without permission!" Then all the teachers stomped away.

When the three got back to the Gryffindor common room, they looked at each other awkwardly. Then Ron said brightly, "Hey, we've all been in the same hyped-up, over-dramatized experience. Shouldn't we be friends?"

"Sure!" They all giggled together and went off to paint each others' toenails like all good chums should.

The next morning, they all sat together at breakfast. Harry was rather grumpy because the other night, he'd forgotten that he was still in his pirate costume and that morning he'd had to peel a slightly squished Betsy off his shoulder. He was also mad because Betsy never brought him mail. She never even flew around and bit his ear off affectionately, which was in the script.

Hermione and Ron were poring over the Daily Privy. "Look, it's my article! 'Boy Slaughters Giant Troll With No Aid From Friends'," Ron gushed. Harry muttered something incomprehensible angrily. "What's that, Harry?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione cried, beaver teeth wobbling dangerously. Ever since her large dose of anti-klutz medicine, her accident prone-ness was much less showy. "It's an article about you!" She read the title out loud. "'Schizo Boy Rages in Jealousy'! Look, they even have a picture of you beating up a random student."

Harry then took out his anger by beating up a random student. However, this random student happened to be Neville, who immediately fought back by blasting Harry's left hand into oblivion. Hermione offered to fix it, but even when she'd been treated Harry didn't trust her with his body parts. Instead he went to the nurse's office, where Madame Pomfrey used pliers, a drill, and a saw to attach his hand to his wrist again.

Harry left the infirmary rubbing his sore left wrist and cursing. Just then the author showed. "Harry, you're not allowed to curse. It's out of character, dear."

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"I am the AUTHOR. I come to you in all my awesomeness."

"Oh, good, because I wanted to point out some holes in the plot for you."

The author decided to play along. "Yeah, what?"

"Well, first off, there is the question of _the plot_. So far, you've hardly planted one clue to the plot. Nothing big and significant is happening."

"Look, Harry, you're a nice kid—well, no you're not, but whatever, since I did create your personality, I want to be kind by warning you: don't question my awesomeness. It's really not smart."

"I DON'T CARE! YOU'RE POWERLESS TO STOP ME! THIS IS A DEMOCRACY, DAMMIT!"

The author sighed. "Listen, Harry, you can either bear with me or I can completely change this story and make it focus on a passionate affair between you and Ron. Really, compared to some fics, this ain't that gruesome..."

Harry gulped. "OK, you win. Can I just ask you what I'm supposed to be doing? How do I prove my hero-ness?"

The author frowned. "Sorry, Harry, can't help you there. I totally forgot what happens and can't find my copy of the first book. Oh, OK, I'm just too lazy to go get it, I know exactly where it is."

Harry made a puppy-eyed face. "Aww, who could resist that face?" the author said. Then she smacked Harry across the face. "Don't try your cheap tricks on me, Harry. I am awesomeness, remember that. Now ta-ta as you weird people in England say." With that the author disappeared in a puff of smoke. Harry grumbled, "Good for nothing author—"and suddenly Ron ran up to him and gave him a passionate embrace. Ron blinked, pulled away, and said, "Whaaaa?" before gallivanting away. Harry threw up his hands and yelled, "All right, all right!" as the author, unbeknownst to others, smiled smugly.

Harry lay on his cot, moaning about meanie authors and how the world was against him, when he got a note. Much to his dismay, it was not Betsy who carried it but some random owl from school. He sighed. Betsy was smelling rather bad lately and he'd had to tape her beak back on when it had fallen into his trough. He opened the note. It said in terrible handwriting, "Grrrr roarrrr my cottage smiargh 2 o'clock fork big surprise bring bedget friends rrrrrrr yummy troll legs grrrr." Harry was getting rather good at translating Rabid's strange language and decided the cannibal meant "Come to my cottage at two o'clock. I have a surprise, so bring your friends."

So Harry gathered his merry chums and they all followed the yellow brick road to Rabid's cottage. He greeted them at the doorstep where he was devouring what looked like a four-headed antelope. Rabid ushered them into his shack—er, cottage. It had lots of posters on the wall and bumper stickers on the window, some that said "Cannibals Anonymous" and some that said "Cannibal on Board". A stack of Neville-robots was set near a dresser drawer. On top of the drawer was a picture of Rabid's father fondly punching Rabid in the shoulder and next to that, another picture of Rabid fondly shoving his father down his throat. Harry broke out into a nervous sweat.

Rabid pointed to the fireplace where a large black egg was smoldering on a spit. Hermione breathed sharply. "Rabid," she asked tentatively, "is that...a _dragon egg_?!"

Rabid smiled. "Yep. Hatched it last night."

"How'd you hatch a dragon egg?!" Ron cried. "You're not a dragon, and you're not a female."

"Well, bought some fertility drugs off a chap in the pub I met a while ago," Rabid said, frothing as always. "Want some squirrel sandwiches? Fresh off the burner. Skinned or furry?"

"Er, that's all right," Harry squirmed. "Oh, by the way," he continued nonchalantly, "this morning I was trying to find the bathroom, and I guess I got lost, because I opened the door and there was this giant three-headed dog inside."

Rabid frowned in mid-froth and pulled a computer out of one of his enormous pockets, scanning the screen as he scrolled down. "That's funny, the author never mentions this in the story."

Harry shrugged. "Well, she's a bit forgetful and she's too lazy to write down everything." Ron suddenly put his hand on Harry's knee, looking shocked. Harry cried, "Just kidding har de har har har!" to the sky and Ron took his hand away and stared at it, confused. The author smiled again.

"Rrrrrr, Harry, this room, by chance, wouldn't be on the third floor corridor, would it?" Rabid seemed to froth even more when he was concentrating.

"I think it was! Yes, I remember, I had to run up all these stairs and my bladder was jiggling around and I nearly peed right on the—"

"OK, that's enough, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "Do you know anything about this?" she asked Rabid.

"Oh, yeah, I bought Fluffy from some guy in a pub!" Rabid said happily. "I put him there to guard the—"

"Rabid, shouldn't you be scared of giving us too much top-secret information?" Ron asked.

"What? Oh, yes, I suppose, but I always wanted to brag to someone about the secret that Dum—Nancy made me swear never ever to tell..."

"Nope, Rabid," Ron said, shaking his head piously. "It wouldn't be right." Rabid shut his gob glumly and Harry and Hermione glared daggers at Ron. Then Rabid held up the platter of squirrel sandwiches to the trio and they quickly left.

Later, at night, they discussed this. "So, Fluffy's there to guard something..." Hermione began. She looked to Harry for his opinion. He was busy picking at his cuticles. "Harry, pay attention!" she snapped.

"Huh—what? Oh, sorry."

"So...Fluffy's there to guard something...Harry, didn't you say that when you and Rabid went to that vault, he said it was Hogwarts business or something?"

Harry thought. "Yeah, I think he did."

"So," Ron picked up, "maybe that thing you stole is what Fluffy's guarding!"

Harry's forehead furrowed. "But how? It can't be! I've got the thing in my pocket!"

"Hmmm...if Fluffy's not guarding the—err, thing," Hermione said, wagging around her beaver teeth, "then what's Fluffy guarding instead? Maybe it was _supposed_ to guard the thing, but now it's for something else!"

"Wait..." Ron breathed. "When me and Harry were looking for Monty, we passed the third floor corridor and Snape was limping around with a gash in her leg! Maybe..."

"Maybe he tried to get past Fluffy to see what it was guarding!" Hermione finished with excitement.

"None of this matters until we know what it's really guarding. We know it's not the little red stone thingy I stole." Harry ground his teeth in frustration. "We're exactly where we started again, and I am no closer to becoming a famous tragic hero!"

"Well, now we know that Fluffy is guarding something instead of the thing, and maybe Snape wants it, so that's a start," Ron mused. "Isn't it?"

"Ah, it's probably not even important," Harry shrugged. "I'm really tired."

And so the chums skipped down the yellow brick road—I mean, to their cots.

----------------------------

Wow! We had three guest appearances in this chapter, Monty the Entertaining Troll, the author AKA me, and **gasp **the PLOT! Finally. Now, review, or I'll sic Monty on you!

Monty: She's not kidding.

Harry: Hullo, all!

Author: What the hell are you doing here, Harry?

Harry: Just here to encourage the others to review, and might I be so bold as to add that those bags under your eyes are _very_ becoming, O Wise and Revered Author.

Author: OK, what do you want?

Harry: I was hoping you could give me some abs in the story so I can win me some hos.

Author: You're _eleven_! All of you, leave now, I wanna sleep.

Harry & Monty: Fine. (Different cases of angst ensue)

**REVIEW!!!**


	6. Chapter Six: Have Yourself A Harry Littl...

Errr thanx guys. That was sarcastic, if you couldn't notice. Four reviews. Why do I bother? Anyways, thank you to the ONLY people who reviewed: Jenny, Katya, kathryn, and LadyAna.

Disclaimer: Look, morons, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Barbie belongs to Mattel, and Reese's Puffs belong to...err...Reese? All I got is the plot changes and crap. Enjoy, amigos...

Chapter Six: Have Yourself A Harry Little Christmas

Harry lay in his cot Christmas Eve, blubbering, of course, because he was a tragic little hero. Then suddenly, a ghost appeared before him. "O-o-o-o-ogy bo-o-o-o-ogy-y-y-y-y!" it moaned.

He shot up. "Wow, a ghost! Hey, are you also nearly cockless?"

The ghost's monocle dropped. "I beg your pardon?" it said, scandalized. "Nevermind, nevermind, I shall get straight to the point. Tonight you will be visited by three ghosts. If you do not change your penny-pinching ways, something te-e-e-e-e-errible shall happen!" It waved its arms about dramatically.

"That sounds kinda familiar," Harry said with narrow eyes.

"You are Ebenezer Scrooge, correct?"

"No, I'm Harry Potter."

"Damn! Hehe, sorry, my secretary must have created a mix up. The message I have for you is: that stone you have is very important. You must remember only one thing. And that thing is—"Suddenly the ghost was cut off by a piercing wail. The Bloody Baron floated through the wall and put his hands around the other ghost's neck. "You stole my mother's carrot soup recipe 700 years ago!" the Baron screeched.

"Ack!" The ghost choked. He managed to get out of the Baron's grip and flew through the wall, the Baron in hot pursuit.

"NOOOO!" Harry cried. "At the last second, you didn't get to tell me the important thing that could possibly save lives! Damn, that's cliché!" And he went back to sleep.

He awoke the next morning and immediately ran to see how many presents he had. But although every other boy in the dorm had a stick of gifts, he had none. He sat down and cried some more. Then he noticed that Ron's stack was nearly twice as high as the other boys'.

"Ron," he asked suspiciously, "did you steal my presents?"

"What? Me? No! I—I'm shocked that you would think that. Hahaha." He laughed nervously, then screamed, "I was framed! It was Neville!" and then jumped out the window.

Harry took all his presents from Ron's pile and said, "I hope for his sake he doesn't land in the thorn patches." Hermione had sent him a box of Reese's Puffs cereal and he wondered why, but there was no explanation. Ron had given him a makeup kit with a note attached: _You have a horrible complexion. Hope this helps! Try some concealer on that scar!_ Harry rolled his eyes and chucked the kit out of the hole Ron had made in the window. Then he opened the next present. He couldn't read the note, bit since the whole thing was covered with blood he assumed it was from Rabid. It looked like the cross between a flute and a tobacco pipe.

As he sat down to cry some more because all his presents sucked, he noticed one last package on Ron's pile that said "for Harry". Lightening up, he opened it. He'd expected something good to compensate for the suckiness of the rest, but when he pulled out a lacy satin robe embroidered with flowers, he grunted in disappointment. He thought that it was from Ron as well, but then he found a note.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died a gruesome, bloody death. Hibbage! I have no idea what the hell it does. You figure it out._

—_Nancy._

Harry snorted. Count on Nancy to give him such a strange present. He shrugged and put the robe on. Just then Freddie and Jason walked in. They laughed. "Nice outfit, mate!" Jason said grinning. Harry looked down. Nothing magical had happened. "DAMMIT! NOT ONLY DO ALL MY PRESENTS SUCK, BUT NOW I KNOW THAT MY FATHER USED TO OWN A FLOWERY SATIN ROBE!" Harry cried. Freddie and Jason rolled their eyes. "Is Ron here?" Freddie asked.

"No, he jumped out the window," Harry said.

"Oh. Well then, see you at the Christmas Feast, mate," Freddie said as they left. _Again with the feasts_, Harry thought angrily. Then Ron strode in, a large bump on his head. He was covered with thorns and limping slightly. In his hand he carried the make-up kit Harry had thrown out the window. He surveyed Harry. "Looking good, chappy!" he said in approval. Harry hurriedly took off his robe.

"I landed in a patch of thorns and then the kit I got for you fell on my head," Ron explained. "How'd that happen?"

"Oh, er, must have been Peeves, har de har har har," Harry lied nervously.

That night, after the feast, Harry was sitting on a dead elf in the common room doing his Transfiguration homework, which was propped up on a fatter elf corpse. He was transfiguring McGonagall's parking tickets into dollar bills. Suddenly an owl flew pecked him in the, er, backside. Harry screamed in a very girly way and knocked over the dead elves. The owl rolled its eyes and held out a package, which Harry took with a shaking hand. Once the owl was gone, he opened it. Inside was a note and another robe. Harry groaned.

Sorry, Harry. Orca! I put the wrong robe into your box! That one was for my girlfriend. Please send it back. I've sent you your father's robe, but I'm still not sure what it does.

_--Nancy_

Harry took out the new robe. It was large, black, dusty and patched, and when he shook it out, a dead house elf fell out. But he definitely preferred it to the other one. "Ron," he yelled into the dorm, "I need that robe back."

Ron appeared in of the doorway, looking disappointed as he handed back the lacy robe, which Harry had lent him. "Fine," he said, pouting. He went off to find an owl. Harry put the robe on to try it out, and when Ron came back in, he took one look at Harry and said nervously, "I-I'm sorry, sir! I didn't know you'd be here!" and scampered off. Harry scratched his head. "What's up with him?" he asked to no one in particular.

He walked by the window to get to his chest of drawers. Then he turned around and ran back to the window, looking into its glassy surface at his reflection. "No—effin'—way!" he cried, slamming his fists down. He was staring at his reflection, although it was not his normal reflection. It was—

"_Simon_?!" Harry cried. Yes, he was dressed in robes, but his body and face was that of the American Idol judge. No wonder Ron had run away from him, he was afraid he'd diss his clothes! Dismissing the fact that his father had this robe long before American Idol had debuted, and that by all rights it was 1991 which was a decade or so before anyone had ever heard of Simon, Harry ran around jumping for joy and creating evil cunning plans.

"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Harry cried as Ron came in. "Uhhh, Mr. Cowell, are you OK?"

Harry was about to answer him and tell him that he was really Harry and that his father's cloak turned people into Simon, when he had a better idea. "_I'm_ marvelous, it's your fashion sense you should worry about," Harry answered in that generic smooth english accent.

Ron ran sobbing from the room. Harry chortled, "Har de har har har! I'm gonna have some fun with this..." Miles away, a young Simon Cowell suddenly turned into a wimpy boy with black hair and a funny pear-shaped scar. "This hair," he said, looking at his new self in the mirror, "could definitely use some moisturizer."

Harry had taken off the cloak and hidden it well by the time Ron had come back into the room. "Harry!" Ron sobbed. "You'll never believe what just happ—"

"You saw Simon Cowell in the dorm and he dissed your sense of fashion?" Ron's eyes widened and Harry chuckled inwardly in a smug way. _Mwahahahaha, the teachers will never see this coming!_ he thought.

That night, after a Christmas feast of Mistletoe berries that had nearly everyone blocked up, Harry went on a quest to the library with his new cloak in tow, after taking some MagiLax, of course. His goal? To get into the restricted section. The teachers always insisted that this section of the library was restricted because it had books about dark magic, but Harry knew the truth from Jason, who was of course an expert on horny teens and their secret stashes: it had a huge stash of certain mags supplied from Pornogon Alley. Harry was determined to find it, even though the author had made the point that he was eleven and not supposed to be perverted till around fourth year.

Of course, Madame Pince, the librarian, had gone to sleep long ago and the library was nearly empty. He strutted into the restricted section in his Simon disguise. It was rather easy to find the stash of nudies, they must be popular with the professors. He opened one up and stared, but then the girl inside started making some moaning noises and Harry quickly dropped the book as the alarm went off. "Dammit!" he swore as he ran like hell into some weird abandoned classroom. He could hear that ugly caretaker guy walking around in the library, chuckling and talking to his deranged cat.

Harry looked around the abandoned classroom. There was a big hole in the middle, and when Harry looked down he could see into it. It was very deep and he could see some weird hairy people tunneling around down there. "Wow!" he said in delight. "I've found a secret race of molemen!" But then he was distracted away from the molemen by the large plastic pink mirror against the far wall of the room.

He went up to it. The word "Barbie" was engraved into every inch of it, at least the inches of it that were not already covered by plastic roses and fairies. He drew his breath. "Barbie Accessory Number 19665! The Life-size Magic Rose-fairy Mirror!" He went over to the mirror and looked into it. But he did not see himself. He did not even see Simon Cowell. Instead he saw a Barbie with pink hair and fairy wings.

"Hee-hee!" it giggled at him. Harry gaped. "Ha-a-a-a-a-a-arry!" it cried.

"Yeah?"

"This is the mir-r-r-r-r-ror of Erise-e-e-e-e-ed....Heeheee, that's desire spelled backwards, heehee, isn't that like so-o-o-o-o-o cool?" She laughed in a ditzy way. "OK, like what you do is you, like, look into it and then you see what you want most of all in life. Isn't that like so-o-o-o-o-o awesome, Herb?"

"Harry."

"Oh, haha, sorry, blonde moment," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"But you're not blonde," Harry pointed out. The ditzy fairy suddenly became serious. "Well, if you're gonna be all logical and stuff, I might as well go surfing with Ken on the beach." And suddenly the background in the mirror changed and she was standing with Ken and a surfboard on a beach.

"Let's go, Keith."

"Ken," the doll corrected.

"Haha, sorry, blonde moment!"

Ken caught Harry's eye and shrugged, following the Barbie to the waters. The images in the mirror starwiped. Harry now saw his reflection, but he was not alone. Strangers surrounded him, taking pictures and holding out microphones and handing him awards. His chest puffed up with pride. "Fame, fame, fame," he cried giddily, twirling around. Pigs flew, and fireworks went off. Then Harry supposed the noise was attracting Filch, so he went to bed.

He came back again the next night, making sure to insult the ghosts that floated around randomly about their lack of personality. Several even cried. He even told Ron about the cloak and what it did and brought him with along one time, but after hearing Ron cry out "I'm wearing designer jackets from the winter catalogue, Harry!" and such, Harry decided to go alone.

Then on the fourth night, Harry came in and looked in the pink plastic mirror and received a shock. "Kabob!" a voice cried. Harry clutched at his heart. Pain shot up and down his left arm. When he had revived from his heart attack, Nancy was leaning over him.

When Harry had revived from his _second_ heart attack, Nancy said, "Simon, what are you doing here? This is a bad mirror. Bad bad bad. Fribbit! Don't come here anymore, got that?"

Harry nodded. After having multiple heart attacks in this room, he never wanted to come again. Then to add emphasis, he said smoothly, "This décor shocks and appalls me. Shame on your interior designer." Then he ran away before Nancy could figure out he wasn't really Simon.

At the end of Christmas, Hermione had returned from vacation with her parents. Harry and Ron inquired why she'd gotten them both boxes of Reese's Puffs for Christmas.

"Well, I was watching movies about crime-solving kids, and they all have a special vehicle and a snack food. So, I decided in order for us to be crime-solvers, we need to endorse a snack food," she said bossily.

"Like Scooby-Doo?" Harry asked in perplexity, but Ron was already studying the contents of his cereal box.

"This stuff?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose. "It looks like dog kibble. And what kinda dumb slogan is that?! Hermione, you're bonkers."

"Don't worry, Ron!" Harry cried. "Reese's Puffs are swirling with that peanut butter chocolatey taste!" Suddenly everyone in the dining hall was digging in to boxes of Reese's Puffs, and Nancy danced on top of the Head Trough, crying, "The Reese's Puffs taste is what it is!" Then Nancy sat down in thought, trying to understand what the hell that meant.

Ron also got into it, and after a fun sing along to some song with altered words, everything calmed down and got back to normal. Harry and Ron munched on their cereal and Hermione sat there, looking smug.

The days passed uneventfully. No teachers burst into fireballs, no more sightings of the three-headed dog. Harry stuck true to his word and never went back to see the pink mirror. Then one day the crime-solving trio received. It bore the message: Grrrrr dragon egg ahhhhh hatched come quick blooodddd. And it was covered with weasel brains. Harry and his friends looked at each other and said some naughty words that I can't repeat here because then I'd have to change the rating to R. Then they quickly shoved bowls of Reese's Puffs into their mouths and skedaddled to Rabid's.

Wow, I think you could almost call that a cliffhanger! A rare thing in my parodies. Anyways, I'm gonna start HI SKOOL (!!!!) come Monday so updates will be less frequent. I will definitely try and finish this thing and maybe over winter break, spring break, or next summer I'll be able to do Chamber of Secrets. Ta ta for now! And as always, please review. Not reviewing makes me think you don't like my story, sniffle sniffle.

**Review Now!!! Didi mau!!!**


	7. Chapter Seven: Gorebert

Hello again, mateys! This chapter ain't really long and I know I've kept you waiting for way too long, but what with high school starting and all, I have like no time to myself anymore. Damn you, education! Damn youuuuuuuu!!!!!! Well thanx to everyone who reviewed: Jenny, Katya, MultiNova, Me Gusta books, FunkyMagick, LadyAna, and Skwiggle. I love you all and I hope I didn't forget anyone—as you all know, I am not very bright. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Enjoy, amigos y amigas.

Chapter Seven: Gorebert

Harry, Hermione, and Ron rushed into Rabid's shack. There, sitting on his table, was a—a—

"FURBY?!" the trio exclaimed. The Furby glared at them with evil red eyes. Claws sprouted out of his toes and fangs traveled down his mouth. "Goo ga boku!" he hissed.

"Sounds kinda like Dumble—Nancy," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Great man, Nancy!" Rabid boomed, coming into the shack from the back door, where he'd been finding food for the Furby. He put the live kittens on the table and watched fondly as the Furby devoured them alive. Little girls and PETA people alike squealed and cursed Fanfictionfantom, then burst into tears.

"Rabid, what happened?" Ron asked. "Wasn't a dragon supposed to hatch outta that egg?"

"Well, see, Ron, when I fertilized it, I passed some of my traits down to it. At first it was just a hairy, bloodthirsty dragon, but then I fed it after midnight and it turned into, er, that." Rabid frowned in thought and wondered what the hell "that" was. Furby lovers and Gremlins watchers everywhere shrilled their outrage and joined the PETA people and kitten girls in their campaign to throw the author in a dungeon.

"I named him Gorebert," Rabid added happily. "He likes mommy, doesn't he? Doesn't he? Goo goo ga ga!" He tickled Gorebert under the chin and the Furby shrieked and tried to bite off his finger. Rabid chuckled nervously and put his hand back.

Just then, Malfoy's ugly ratty face appeared suavely and coolly in the window. Rabid, Harry, and the gang would have never noticed him had he not put his face against the window and giggled, watching his nose stretch and bloat. Harry and the others gasped and whirled around, but it was too late. Peeling his face off the window, Malfoy chuckled and ran toward the castle.

"Dammit!" Harry cried. "He's gonna tell! And I'm pretty sure it's illegal to own a flesh-eating Furby!" The PETA people and little pigtail girls cheered.

Rabid looked worried. "They'll take away Gorebert!" he sobbed, froth mixing with his tears. "I can't bear it! Krrrrrrrrr!"

Harry, however, looked happy. "I'm pretty sure there's some way in this situation to come out looking like the hero I am," he said thoughtfully. "Some way..."

Suddenly Ron perked up. "Charlie!" he cried.

"What? I'm not Charlie," Harry wailed. "Oh, no, now Ron's got amnesia! We're doooooomed!"

"No! Charlie, my older brother, is a dragon keeper! I'm pretty sure he could handle a flesh-eating Furby!"

"Ron, that's brilliant!" Hermione cried, her teeth wobbling.

"My hero!" Rabid gushed, swooning.

"Wh-what?!" Harry sputtered. "No! Wait, _I'm_ supposed to save the day! Not Ron, I'm the hero. Th-this is sooooo unfair!" But no one paid any attention to his tantrum. Instead Rabid and Hermione were grinning at Ron, who was glowing in the attention.

Full of rage and anger, Harry threw the Furby at Ron. It bit him and Ron gasped. Then he turned purple, shrunk, and grew an extra arm. "Ron!" Hermione gasped. "What happened?"

Harry cried out, "The Furby! The Furby did it!" It was a good thing everyone's attention was on Ron, because Harry's eyes were darting around rather suspiciously. Rabid wailed. "Why, Gorebert, why-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y?"

But Hermione was already thinking about what they would tell Madame Pomfrey. "Ron, you need medical help!"

"No shit," he replied, waving around his third arm.

"Just tell Madame Pomfrey that you, er, ate a funny mushroom," Hermione shrilled. Rabid's window broke.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Harry said. "And me and Hermione will take Gorebert to Charlie. You write him a letter and we'll wrap it up like a neat little package."

But Hermione frowned and said, "This is all too easy. The evil author surely has some sort of twist because everything always goes wrong." Suddenly Hermione's teeth started to grow rapidly. "Sorry, oh your most evilness!" she cried, and her teeth went back to normal, if you could call it that.

After Ron had written a letter to Charlie to come pick up Gorebert, they took him to Madame Pomfrey. She gasped when she saw him.

"What in God's name happened to you?!" she shrieked.

"Uhhhh...I ate a funny mushroom," Ron lied.

She gasped and held a hand to her chest. "Ron, think carefully!" she said. "Was this mushroom, by chance, green with tufty red hairs on the stalk?"

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione. They shrugged, so he nodded. "Um, yes, yes, it was."

Pomfrey sighed and pulled out a chainsaw.

"W-w-what's that for?" Ron stuttered as she put on gloves and goggles.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut off your balls," she said.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron cried in agony. "Wait—wait, actually, the mushroom was YELLOW! YELLOOOOW!"

Pomfrey put everything away. "Well, that's a different case entirely. Just take this tonic. You'll have to stay in the hospital wing a while, though." She sounded very disappointed.

So Ron stayed in the hospital wing. After drinking his tonic, he began growing back toward his normal size and his purple skin was fading to its regular color and his third arm fell off. Hermione and Harry waited for Charlie's reply. Finally it came a few days later.

Hullo, Ron and chums! I'd be ecstatic to take your flesh-eating Furby. Take it to the highest tower of the castle and wait for my angels at midnight. Now look over your shoulder, because that slimy git Malfoy is reading this from behind you.

_Love, Charlie._

Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised looks and turned around. Sure enough, Malfoy was running away from them chuckling evilly.

"Oh no!" Hermione groaned. "Now he'll ruin all our plans!"

"Well," Harry said, puffing up his chest. "We'll just have to take our chances! He's no match for a hero like me!"

Hermione snorted in disbelief, then said quickly, "Just kidding. He...he...he," she said, quailing under Harry's indignant glare.

That night, Harry and Hermione waited on top of the highest tower for Charlie and his friends. They'd worn Harry's Simon robe and had discovered that the robe even worked when more than one person wore it, except Simon looked like he'd gained 150 pounds. They weren't sure what Ron's brother had meant by his "angels" but they were ready. Gorebert was thrashing around in a crate. They'd tried to put him to sleep, but he woke up when they lifted the crate so they were forced to lock him in there. Harry scanned the sky for any sign of Charlie.

Suddenly three incredibly hot women on jet-powered broomsticks touched down on the top of the tower. Harry gaped.

"Hey," the Chinese chick said. "We're Charlie's Angels." When Harry just stared without saying anything, she prompted, "We're here for the flesh-eating Furby...?"

Hermione quickly pointed to the crate, then smacked Harry upside the head. "Snap outta it, moron. You don't like girls until Book Three." The Angels tied the crate to their broomsticks, flipped their hair, and flew off into the night. Hermione let Harry jack off for a bit, then the duo made their way down to the lower levels of Hogwarts.

But then they were stopped by the Neville robot. "Need...new...battery!" it pleaded with them. Suddenly it made a lot of weird loud noises. In the midst of the din, they were joined by a furious McGonagall and a smug-looking Malfoy. "What have we here!" McGonagall said triumphantly. "A bunch of rebels, eh?" She talked for a bit into her walkie-talkie as the duo realized they had left their Simon cloak at the top of the tower.

Then McGonagall explained, "Mr. Malfoy here came to my office babbling about flesh-eating Furbies, so I knew immediately you had something to do with it, Potter!" She took them all to her office for questioning.

Her office was dark and bare, and there was a very large mirror on one side, behind which Harry could hear someone muttering, "They're here." and someone coughing. McGonagall made them sit at a small table in the middle of the room and snapped her fingers. A large light shone into Harry's face.

"Alright, scumbag. Where's Sergio keeping the angel dust?" McGonagall snarled accusingly.

"Wh-what?" Harry stuttered. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Oh, right, I mean, where is the flesh-eating Furby?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked around. "I don't know nothin'," he said in an Italian-mobsta type accent, even though he is supposed to be English.

McGonagall took out ten Galleons. "Lemme refresh your memory," she said craftily.

Harry hunched over and shook his head. "No, for ten Galleons I still don't know nothin'."

"How about twenty?" McGonagall laid more Galleons out on the table.

Harry took a puff of the cigar that had appeared in his mouth. "OK, maybe I do know something. We gave the Furby to—ARGH!"

Hermione had bit him with her gigantic beaver teeth. "You idiot!" she roared. "Don't let her bribe you!" To McGonagall she said, "We won't tell you anything!"

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Bring out the demonstration!" she called out the door. In came Nancy, pushing a wheelbarrow that contained a crash-test dummy inside. McGonagall cackled sinisterly and snapped her fingers. The dummy's head suddenly turned into a furry head of lettuce. "Are you SURE you have no information?" she asked evilly.

Hermione quailed. "OK, OK...the Furby's...gone! You're too late! Eeheeheeheehehheee!" Hermione laughed maniacally. McGonagall roared.

"You idiot kids!" she cried out. "Well, fine then. If you won't speak up, I'll have to do the ultimate evil!"

Harry, Hermione, the Neville-robot, and Draco sat quivering (and, in Neville's case, clanking, buzzing, and whirring) in anticipation. "That's right. I'm taking 500 million points from Gryffindor and Slytherin—for each of you!"

The four groaned in anguish. "Not house points!" Hermione shrilled. The lenses of McGonagall's glasses shattered. "Make that 600 million!" McGonagall yelled angrily. "My bad..." Hermione trailed off. The others just sobbed harder.

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How was that, peeps? I hope it measured up to the other chappies. Sorry it took so long, but I just started freshman year in high school and am currently very busy with homework, stalking, trying to keep in touch, stalking, dealing with my mood swings, stalking...you know the drill. Oh, and by the way, I keep hearing about all these stories taken down because they did something wrong...I'm new here, guys, so if there's something wrong with my monstrosity, just put it in a review. No need to play rough. As always,

**REVIEW. Please. Heehee?**

And don't worry, even if you don't have an account you can still review because I accept unsigned reviews! Isn't that just dandy?


	8. Chapter Eight: Fluffy the Gigantic PinkP...

Hullo, all! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'd list you guys but I'm too half-assed to go to my inbox and reread all the reviews. Plus I wanna post this ASAP and I bet you guys want me to as well, so without further ado, enjoy:

**Chapter Eight: Fluffy the Gigantic Pink—Poodle?!**

The next morning, Harry was no longer even the teensiest bit popular. People glared and threw eggs, assorted vegetables, and knives at him when he walked out of the dormitory. As he made his way through the Great Hall, the ceiling rained every single grenade onto him. And when he sat down at his trough in the mess hall, pulling knives out of his head and grenades out of his boxers, everyone got up and moved somewhere else. So Harry sat alone for quite some time until Hermione joined him miserably. "Oh, Harry, everyone hates us!" she cried, teeth wobbling even more crazily today on account of her being so upset. "Parvati and Lavender put a beaver in my pillow case last night!"

Harry almost chortled, then thought better of it. No need for Hermione to bring up the knives and grenades incident. "Well, should we visit Ron in the infirmary then?" he asked instead, wanting to be away from the masses.

Hermione shrugged. "Fine. Lemme just finish eating my beaver first." She pulled half a beaver carcass out of her bag and gobbled it up. Harry looked away, it was just too much like cannibalism. After she finished, they skipped gaily to the infirmary, dodging hot bricks and laser beams as they went. But before they got there, a very drunk Rabid stumbled upon them.

"Harry! Hermioneinninny!" he slurred, taking a swing of his giant-sized whiskey bottle. "Grarrrrr...so Harriet, Herbert, Horace, alls ya gotta do with Fluffy is grrrrrr give 'im a nice smoke from the bong and he'll go all stoned-like! Hic! Hic!" he hiccuped.

"Rabid!" Hermione gasped. "You just gave away an important piece of the plot that we were supposed to weasel out of you, not just stumble upon! How could you?"

"Flrrrrrr...damn author, too busy to—hic—put in a good plot...too busy with goddamn high school, she says. Hic!" Just then those random readers from a few chapters ago ran up to Rabid, slapped him thoroughly and cried, "Idiot! Never, ever mention the author in dialogue, and never give away information so easily!" Rabid, who was rather hungry and had had enough of these annoying people, scooped them up and shoved them in his mouth, following up the meal with another chug of whiskey.

"We'll be ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-ack!" the random people cried as they traveled down Rabid's esophagus into his stomach.

Just then a light-bulb lit up above Harry's head. "Eureka!" he cried.

"I do NOT reek!" Hermione sniffed.

"Hermione, for a genius you're not very smart. Anyway, what I meant was I have an idea!"

"What?"

"I said, I have an idea. WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID?!" he yelled in rage, brandishing his fists.

"No, I meant what's the idea?"

"Oh. Well, now that we know how to get rid of Fluffy, let's go see what he's guarding! Maybe we'll find treasure! Or robots! And then we'll be popular again!"

Hermione, who never was actually popular, thought for a moment. Then she shrugged. "Might as well, one of these times we're actually gonna die from the numerous knives thrown at us, so why not endanger ourselves further?"

"Hmmmm..." Rabid rubbed his chin sloth-like, and set down the now empty whiskey bottle on the table. "Summat tells me I should intervene with this like a responsible adult..."

"Better yet, tell us what to stone Fluffy with," Harry said craftily.

Rabid shook his head. "No, I shouldn't..." Harry pulled a fresh bottle of booze from behind his back. Rabid brightened. "Then again..."

Ten minutes later, Harry and Hermione were sitting at the foot of Ron's bed in the hospital wing. "So that thing Harry stole from the vault is actually a stone full of sleeping powder? And you're supposed to stone Fluffy with it to get down to the hidden chamber?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry grinned smugly and said, "Yup." Rabid had decided, once Harry had handed over the bottle, that since the stone had been stolen, it was safe to tell Harry what to do with it. Of course, he had no idea Harry had stolen the stone himself, and Harry was not about to tell him.

"So when're you getting out, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Soon. Pomfrey says I'm all healed but I should stay for rest."

"What?" Hermione cried. "Why?"

"Oh, well, I think it's because she's lonely. She makes me play Santa Clause all the time when this place is empty."

"What a sweet lady," Harry said happily to the molested boy on the bed in front of him.

Just then, Freddie, Jason, and Oliver Wood rushed into the infirmary. "Harry!" Wood cried, as his giant unibrow knocked out Madame Pomfrey, who'd come in to see what the commotion was about. "Harry, you've got to hurry! We've been waiting for you at the Squidditch field forever! Today's the match!"

Harry then rushed off and of course, the good guys naturally won the game because it can't be right if the good guys lose. When he was walking back from the match, all sweaty and stinky, he heard McGonagall's voice talking into her walkie-talkie. He hurried into the shadows to innocently eavesdrop.

"What? Well, do you think Rabid told anyone? Of course it's safe. No, I don't know who has it, but neither does anyone else, so I think it's safe. We can't let ANYONE find out this ENORMOUS SCANDALOUS VERY SECRET SECRET that we keep deep underneath FLUFFY THE THREE HEADED DOG! NO ONE, DAMMIT!" she screamed into the receiver. Harry watched her walk by, eyes narrowed and shifty, rubbing her hands together while her nostrils flared so much that she sucked up loose mud and grass clods from the ground.

In the common room, Harry told Hermione and Ron, who'd finally returned from the hospital wing after being fed up with playing Santa Clause so much, what he'd heard McGonagall practically scream into her machine. Hermione had gone, "Oooooooh, Harry, she must be hiding something!"

"No shit. Anyway, we'll find out what it is once we get past Fluffy tonight. But first we need a pipe."

"Here," Ron pushed a pipe into Harry's hand that he'd just taken out of his bag. He reddened when Harry and Hermione looked at him in shock. "What? What? I-it's for g-gardening, hehehehe..."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever. It'll work." He stashed the pipe in his pocket and got his Simon cloak out from his bag. "Now, who's up for some insecticide?" Hermione pulled out a box of Reese's Puffs

And said, "Don't forget the our Puffs! After all, the Reese's Puff's taste is what it is."

Harry and Ron consumed the entire box and followed it up with some good ole insecticide. After a good retch session, they ran to their dormitories to rub their hands together in evil glee. Then at dinner, they all sat together, rubbing and smirking.

_I hope we find an evil creature and smite it verily! _Harry thought.

_I hope we find gold so I can finally afford Chanel!_ Ron wished.

I hope we find a hair straightener! Hermione said to herself, positively glowing. 

_I hope that cream will help the rash on my balls go away!_ Prissy hoped. Everyone looked at him, amazed and disgusted. "Hey!" he cried. "That's not fair! You're not supposed to hear what I'm thinking!" Everyone turned away again, but they kept glancing at him funny till he left, scratching his crotch. Then, the clock struck eight o'clock. Harry, Hermione, and Ron glanced at one another and nodded. It was time. They got up from their trough and made their way, as 300 pound Simon, to the corridor leading to Fluffy.

"Oh, wait, guys, I need a potty break," Harry said conveniently. Hermione and Ron waited while he went to the bathroom.

On the edge of the sink in the bathroom sat the author.

Harry squacked and blushed. "Y-y-y-you're a girl!" he said. "You can't be in here!"

The author sighed. "I can be anywhere I want, Harry. Now shut up. I've come bearing important information."

"And what would that be?"

"This." Harry caught the pipe she'd thrown him. It was the one he'd gotten for Christmas from Rabid! "What's this for?" he asked.

"Harry, do you know how hard it is to form a plot? I put that pipe into the story as foreshadowing of the bong-iness to come1 And then you go and use Ron's pipe and just totally ruin everything!"

"OK, OK," Harry said nervously. "I'll use Rabid's pipe." The author nodded, said, "Good," and disappeared in a puff of smoke and cheese curls.

Harry took a leak, returned to his friends, and explained everything to them so I won't have to write it all down again. They took off the Simon cloak and stood outside the door. "Well, Harry, this is it," Ron said fiercely, tears in his eyes.

"Yes, Ron, and I want you to know...in case I die..."

"Y-yes?"

Harry turned away from him, and somewhere emotional violin music started up. "I-I...I was the one who spilled that tea all over your favorite pink blouse..."

"Oh, Harry," Ron said, embracing him. "It doesn't matter anymore. We're in this together."

"Would you just shut up?" Harry and Ron looked around to see Hermione tackling Malfoy, who'd been the one playing the sappy violin music. He got up from her grip and ran away, giggly yet suave.

"Uh-oh, we'd better get going before Malfoy comes back with McGonagall," Ron said.

Hurriedly, they rushed into the room Harry had stumbled upon on his search for the bathroom, which just happened to contain a gigantic pink poodle the size of a house.

"That's Fluffy?!" Hermione shrilled. Ron clapped his hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Aroused by her whiny indignation, Fluffy awoke and started yapping just as shrilly. Harry covered his ears.

"Oh, God, the noise! It's like Hermione times ten!" he groaned.

"Hey!" Hermione cried sharply.

"Stop, stop, you're making it worse!" Ron screamed, kneeling on the ground. But Hermione, who seemed unaffected by the poodle's shrillness, lit up the bong and grabbed Harry's stone. She cracked it open and let some of the reddish-black powder pour into the pipe, and then she stuck the whole thing into Fluffy's mouth. After Fluffy was asleep, Harry and Ron got up from the floor and glanced sheepishly at Hermione. "Well done there, mate," Ron said timidly, using authentic English slang. Harry nodded brightly and they looked around the room for some sort of hint as to what to do next.

There was nothing. It was a completely useless, empty room.

"Oh my god!" Harry screamed, veins twitching and threatening to burst out of his forehead. "Don't you tell me that we risked being eaten by a gigantic pink poodle all for nothing!"

"What'd he say?" Ron whispered to Hermione, both of whom were cowering away from Harry's rage.

"I think he said to tell him that we risked being eaten by a gigantic pink poodle all for nothing," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Ron shrugged. "Better give him what he wants." To Harry, he said timidly, "Harry, we risked being eaten by a gigantic pink poodle all for nothing."

Harry let out a roar of anger. "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" he screamed. "WHYYYYY MEEEEE?" To vent this latest bout of frustration and self-pity, Harry took a running start and head-butted the wall behind Fluffy.

Suddenly there was a little grind sound and a small doorknob popped out of the wall. Harry sat on the ground, dazed from hitting his head against the wall, and stared in confusion at the new doorknob.

"You did it!" Hermione gushed. Harry perked up, eager to be recognized as the genius and hero he surely was.

But Hermione was looking at Ron. "Ron, you did it! Thanks to you, Harry headbutted the wall and we discovered the secret of the room!" Harry sputtered and gaped stupidly, steam coming out of his ears.

"Oh, Hermione, it wasn't all me—" Ron began.

"Damn straight it wasn't," Harry said, finally finding his voice.

"—if you hadn't told me what to say to Harry, we'd never have found this out!" Ron finished.

Hermione grinned. "I suppose so. So we're all heroes here...well, except for you, Harry."

By now Harry was on his way to becoming purple. "But—I—you didn't—I'm the one who—you guys—ARRRRRRRRRGH!"

This last argh was just too much for even the stoned poodle. It awoke with a shrill yelp. Harry and Ron screamed and Ron grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door in the wall. "Go, go, go!" he ushered Harry and Hermione in amidst Fluffy's excruciating barks and finally skeddadled in himself and shut the door.

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I know, I know. It's not very long and probably not very funny either. But, hey, high school is hard. I'm sposed to be making a parachute right now. But instead I make a self-sacrifice to finish this chapter. I haven't updated for, what, a month? So thanks in advance to all you patient readers who come back and review. Ta ta! Next chapter, Harry and the gang will get into that place thingy at the end of the book.

Fluffy: Yip

(Translation? Review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)


	9. Chapter Nine: Of Many Strange Things Tha...

Yay! A rare update! How crazy is that? Anyways, thanks much to everyone who reviewed: Black Triforce, Skwiggle, GirlChild1313, a fan, Brick Retarded Weatherman, and Kalira. By the way, to whoever Kalira might be: go awaaaaayyyyyyy. I am not Dawnie. WHO THE HELL IS DAWNIE? Are you trying to freak me out or something? Leave me alooooooooone. Whatever, enjoy:

Disclaimer: Der, I don't own Harry Potter. Or Transformers, or Digimon, or Alex Trebek, Cabbage Patch Kids, Michael Jackson, and whatever the hell else I used in here. I am just Lowly Anahit, Warrior Freshman. NOW you can enjoy:

Chapter Nine: Of Many Strange Things That Are So Numerous If I Listed Them All The Title Would Be Way Too Long

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, a long time ago, there was a dude named Moldyvort--uhh, or Voldemort...or Darth Vader...one of those...anyway, he was truly, truly evil. Not only did he steal Christmas, rape Santa, and eat loads of muggles, he killed Harry Potter's parents. And only a truly, truly evil man would kill Harry Potter's parents and leave him free to roam the world as a menace to society.

That's a little background information. Now, back to your regularily scheduled program.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione collapsed on the floor. Thankfully, Fluffy's yips couldn't be heard through the door. Then they had the common sense to look around the room.

It was empty.

"ARRRRRGH!" Harry started to scream, but then they heard a sound. Suddenly, a small green thing dropped down onto the floor. It looked like a leafy hedge in the shape of a wizened old man wearing a loin cloth. It pulled out a laser gun and began shooting blindly at the walls.

"Wait a second!" Hermione said, pulling out her script. "This room is supposed to have devil's snare in it, not that...that...um, thing!"

"Hermione, don't you understand?" Ron said exasperatedly. "The sorcerer's _stoned_." Harry and Hermione looked at him blankly. He shook his head. Then the plant thing lunged. "Ooooooogy boogy boogy!"it cried. Then it sat down and began speaking Brazilian to the wall.

"What a pushover!" Harry laughed. But then the plant grew very, very large and blocked the way to the door. Harry saw his chance to be a hero and began uttering complicated incantations to trap the plant in a different dimension.

Ron pulled out a small bottle and sprayed it on the plant in the middle of Harry's spell. It whimpered, shrivelled up, and died. Ron grinned. "I knew this Walmart cologne would come in handy someday."

Hermione hugged him. "What a hero!" she cried.

Bitter, Harry said, "That's not cologne, Ron. That's rat piss." After Ron had finished sobbing, the trio carefully walked around the pruney corpse and into the other room.

The walls here were painted in psychedelic colors that moved around in swirls and twists. "Just how stoned is this sorcerer?" Harry muttered to himself. Then a small table and four chairs rose out of the floor, along with Alex Trebek.

"Who's ready to play..." he began.

"Chess?" Ron quipped.

"...Strip poker!"

Harry and the gang blanched. "But...but...we're eleven..."

Trebek turned into Michael Jackson. "Well, that's perfect then!" The trio whimpered and backed into a corner. Hermione desperately cast a spell and Michael caught on fire. He screamed and melted into a pile of bleached rubber and the chess table sank back into the floor. The young wizards sighed in relief.

"Now what?" Harry wondered. There was no visible door. "Maybe you should bang your head into the wall again, mate," Ron suggested.

"Not a bad idea," Harry said, but before he could charge into the wall, Hermione stopped him. "Look!" she cried. They looked.

The colors in the walls suddenly oozed out of them and formed solid objects in the air. They were--

"Cabbage Patch Kids?!" Harry cried in disbelief, as he does quite often. Indeed, they were Cabbage Patch Kids, ugly flabby flatfaced dolls. These had brightly colored wings and flew around the room giggling. At the same time, a door appeared in one wall with a large keyhole.

A broomstick rolled to Harry feet randomly and he picked it up grimly. "We have to find the one with the right key. We will win this war on terrorism," he concluded. Marching band music began playing and an American flag waved behind him, even though this was in England or Scotland or some weird place.

"So which is it then?" Ron asked impatiently. Harry hesitated. "Umm, err, I--"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So much for the war on terrorism," she retorted.

"Umm, you guys--" Ron began when Harry interrupted.

"--We'll just have to shoot 'em down!" Harry cried in a surprisingly southern accent. "Yeeee hawwwwww!" After Harry shot down all the Cabbage Patch Kids and their satisfying screams faded, he searched them for keys. "ARRRRRRGH! THEY'RE NOT HERE!"

"HARRY!" Ron burst out. "I've been trying to tell you--the keys are already in the knob!"

Harry looked at the knob and blushed, looking around at the doll massacre and waste around him and shrugged. "Well, they were annoying anyways..." he justified. For once, he was right.

Harry and the gang turned the doorknob and walked through the door, anticipation high, hoping that the next room did not contain some random creature the author thought up on a whim to fill up space in her story. Actually, the creature in the next room was not entirely random. It was Monty, the entertaining troll.

"Monty?" Ron asked. "What're you doing here?"

"I got lost," Monty sniffled. "I was looking for the bathroom and I got in here by accident. A-and then M-M-Michael Jackson stole my m-m-makeup." Tears rolled down his face and Ron patted his arm comfortingly.

"S'okay mate, we've all been there," he said kindly.

"Ahem," Hermione said angrily. "We _do _have to be going now, Monty, so we'll be seeing you..."

"Wait! Bring Monty too! Monty wanna go!" Monty cried thickly. Hermione started to protest, but Harry clapped a hand over her mouth and said through clenched teeth, "Hermione, _think._ He's a troll...Don't you think we'd be better off with a troll on our side?"

"Oh, but he's not very intelligent, is he? What if he--"

"What if we happen to stumble across an evil murderous wizard who wants to kill us all and we don't have Monty to fight him? Hell, maybe if we had had a big troll in the books, we could've finished the guy up by the third book," Harry said and then took a big breath to compensate for all the lost air.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "_Fine_".

The gang and their new companion then walked through the next door. _Damn, there are a lot of doors around here_, Harry thought thoughtfully. The next room contained a small table with a bunch of funny-shaped bottles on it, and a small piece of paper that Monty picked up and examined. A wall of rainbow- colored fire with peace sign and happy face patterns rippling through it blocked the exit on the other side of the room. Hermione pulled out her script and leafed through it.

"OK, there's supposed to be paper on the table with instructions on which bottle we should drink to get through the fire," she informed them, turning just in time to see the piece of paper disappearing down Monty's throat. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she cried. "What do we do now?"

"Monty done a bad thing," Monty said sadly, sounding much like Lennie in that 'novella' we read in English class called _Of Mice and Men_.

Harry looked at Hermione sheepishly, as it was his idea to bring Monty with them. "Alright, alright, I'll be the guinea pig," he said. He picked up the largest bottle and gulped it down. "Nothing's happening," Ron asserted.

Then something happened. Harry began growing. Alarmed, he grabbed another bottle and drank that one. This process continued until he was twelve feet tall, hoofed, magenta-handed, and numerous other things, some of which I cannot mention unless I change the rating to R. "Hermione, what do I do?" he blubbered with his new forked tongue.

"Errr...just...ummm..." It seemed even Hermione was at a loss. "Urrrrrgh!" Harry cried. "This SUCKS!" He punched the wall in anger, and found that his giganticism allowed him to create a hole straight through the wall, a handy thing when one is need of a door. After Ron and Hermione climbed through and Harry had squeezed Monty through the hole, Harry himself was faced with the dilemna of how to get through a hole the size of his fist.

After a few minutes of thought, he resolved on making the hole bigger with violence since it solves every problem. When he was on the other side of the wall, he looked around at the room they were in.

A bunch of tall columns that were rectangular and colorful stood around the large room. The lighting was dim to add suspense and eeriness, and a large pink plastic mirror stood at the far end of the room. It was covered with roses and the Barbie logo.

Harry gasped. "It's the Mirror of Erised!"

Sure enough, the ditzy pink-haired Barbie fairy appeared in the mirror's glassy surface. But this time she had a desperate fearful look on her face. "Horace! I must tell you the secret of this place! We've gotta hurry, he's coming!"

"Who's coming?" Harry inquired, scratching his head in ape-like confusion.

"The, like, evil sorcerer guy who totally is messing things up!"

"I don't get it," Ron said. "What did he do?" But then the Barbie let out a high-pitched scream and the scene in the mirror starwiped to show McGonagall's gross face leering through. "So Mr. Malfoy was not lying! You somehow managed to get past the dog and even Michael Jackson, Potter! But be assured you will be severely punished! Blech-yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk!"

The mirror went black like a blank TV, and the trio and Monty looked around desperately, studying the strange room carefully."What do we do, what do we do?" Hermione whimpered.

Harry spotted a corner cluttered high with strangely shaped objects. "What's that?" he said, going over to explore the pile. The objects turned out to be one very large sack. Ron opened it and gasped. Inside were the professors! Even the ones who'd burst into flame so long ago! Their mouths were duct-taped and their eyes pleaded silently to Harry and the gang.

Once all the teachers had been freed, and Harry noticed that Rabid and Nancy were not among them, the wizards and the troll looked at them for an explanation.

McGonagall started. "Good job, kids. You freed us! And now we can give you an explanation of the jacked up plot!"

"Why are you all down here? Where are we?" Hermione shrilled.

"This place was meant to guard the Sorcerer's Stone, but it was stolen this summer. Then Moldevort--Voldemort--came and imprisoned us here instead," Flitwick explained squeakily.

"But--you're not imprisoned--I just saw you this morning!" Harry said.

"Voldemort replaced us with our stunt doubles!" Snape cried out.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Hermine uttered. "So _that's _why they were so clueless! And why they burst into flame whenever we questioned them about their subjects. Voldemort probably planned it that way so they wouldn't give anything away!"

"Wow!" Harry cried. "The plot is coming together now! How could i have doubted the awesomness of the author?" Then he paused. "But wait...what about Nancy? And Rabid?"

"Nancy?" Sprout questioned.

"Er, Dumbledore," Hermione explained, realizing that these teachers were probably not very up-to-date with Hogwarts events, seeing as they'd been imprisoned for about a year.

"I don't know what happened to him, or to Rabid," Hooch said.

"I always thought this place seemed kinda shammy," Harry concluded. "But I don't understand how the stone comes into all this."

"That stone contains the most powerful hypnosis powder in the world!" McGonagall cried.

"Really?" Ron asked.

"No, but the author couldn't leave it out completely. It's the only way someone could come get past Fluffy. And Voldemort wants it for something. Anyway, Voldemort didn't want anyone to come down and rescue us, so he tried to steal the stone. He sent a messenger to go get it but the messenger got kicked out by the goblins at Gringotts."

"Wait--you mean _Rabid?_ Rabid was the messenger?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "No freakin' way!"

McGonagall shrugged. "I'm not sure, after all we were stuffed into that sack for a while. Not easy to get information that way, is it? Now, we must get out of here before--"

Suddenly the wall behind the mirror burst, and in came some guy in a turban. He was wearing a tye-dye T-shirt and baggy jeans. The turban was purple and had such hippie symbols on it such as peace signs and smilies. "Yo dudes, that's right, it's me!"

"Who?" Harry asked blankly, as the professors cried out and cowered behind him.

"Dude, _me._ Professor Quirrell? Jesus, man, the guy who ran in stuttering about the troll on Halloween...dude, how stoned were you?"

"Er..." Harry said, not sure how to answer that. "Sorry?"

"Whatever, it don't make a difference. You know why dude? YOU KNOW WHY??" the guy screamed psychotically into Harry's face.

"No, why?" Harry asked, edging away uneasily.

"BECAUSE I'VE GOT FREAKING VOLDEMORT STICKIN' OUTTA MY HEAD!" Quirrell roared happily, waving around his arms.

"That's disgusting," Ron said snobbishly.

"Dude, you only think it's disgusting cuz you're a slave to freakin' society, man," Quirrell sniffed.

"No, it's because it's disgusting. And you probably think it's gross too, since you cover it up with that turban," Ron said reasonably. But this was a bad move. Quirrell's face reddened.

"Well, you're poor!" he cried out, which sent Ron crying again.

"As for you," Quirrell said, turning to Harry, "you let out my prisoners and stole the stone, dude. So you, like, totally hafta pay for that. Prepare to--"

"Not so fast!" a voice cried. Suddenly, a bunch of kids with funny walkie-talkies dropped down from the ceiling. They were lead by a guy with a huge bush of hair and goggles. "The digidestined will prevail!" he cried. Harry stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Is this some sort of joke?" he asked to the unseen author. But the author was too busy giggling at her own joke to listen to him. Instead, she threw in some theme music.

DIGIMON, DIGITAL MONSTERS, DIGIMON ARE THE CHAMPIONS....

"AUGH! Make it freakin' stop, dude!" Quirrell cried. He retaliated by resurrecting Kurt Cobain from the dead so he could play some Rape Me and counterract the power of the theme music.

"This is just getting weirder and weirder," Hermione said before turning into a big yellow lego block. Harry shook his head. "The sorcerer's more stoned than I thought possible," he murmured as Quirrell advanced on him with a gigantic flamethrower.

"Mwahahahahaha! No one will save you now, dude! No one--"

Just then Harry heard a grinding noise and metal clacking. The colorful columns in the room had begun shifting around, until finally instead of columns stood--

"_Tranformers_?" Ron cried. Indeed, the robots began singing TRANFORMERS, ROBOTS IN DISGUISE!

Harry again consulted the author, crying, "Why???? Why can't we just have some normal people to kick Voldemort's ass?" Suddenly the Transformers vanished. "No!" Harry cried in anguish. "I--I was just kidding! Please--I mean, Voldemort doesn't even HAVE an ass! Why--"

Now of course, when one is in grave danger, especially from a stoner with a dark lord popping out of the back of his head, it's usually a bad idea for one to spend his time pleading with the author. You'd think Harry'd have learned that by now, but alas, no. The only thing that saved him this time, as Quirrell waved around a plastic pink wand--apparently he'd chuched the flamethrower for this new weapon--was, ironically, Voldemort.

"Wait!" a funny voice said. "Let me do it!"

"But dude, you can't, you are so like not strong enough. You're freakin' growing outta my head. I--"

"Shaddup!" the voice whined. "Just do it!"

Quirrell chuckled. "OK, dude, you asked for it..." and with that he unwrapped his turban slowly.

Harry's eyes grew wide as he saw what grew out of the back of Quirrell's head, and the teachers, students, and troll behind him all gasped...

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Wow what suspense! The best cliffhanger yet! That's it for now kids, I just got back from one crazy ass football game, froze my tush off, and made a general fool of myself. So I am POOPED. By the way, if you wanna try some magic of your own, review and click on the author alert box. Magically, email will appear in your inbox telling you when I've updated. Isn't that crazy awesome?? I'll try and update sometime soon, but it's hard.

Of course, it might not be as hard if you

REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!

Gracias.


	10. Chapter Ten: ARRRRRRRRRGH!

Look, guys, I made it to the double digit chapters! And I'm sorry it takes me so long to update. I am bogged down with even more projects, including Mr. Casavant's newest form of torture poorly disguised as a project: a catapult. That's right, peeps, a catapult. Holy Christ. Oh and by the way, Mzhellfire, I am an American at heart. How corny is that? Well, technically I'm not American cuz I wasn't born here, but I've been here so long I consider myself at least a farce of an American.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: Black Triforce, weirdly yours aka JENNYA, bumblebee (haha katya), Unbeknownst, crazymonkey1213, kimberly (u reviwed a LOT! I love you! And no, I don't really have any talent), PinkMonkeyPirate, and Mz Hellfire (you also reviewed mucho! thanx!) oh, and no thanks to that kalira psycho...apparently it's a chore to read this now...not my problem, hon.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Any of it. Except mebbe the bling bling...hehehe you'll see...now enjoy!

Chapter Ten: ARRRRRRRRRGH!

"ARRRRRRRRRGH!" Harry cried as he saw the--the---_thing _sticking out of Quirrell's head.

"ARRRRRRRRRGH!" Everyone else behind him cried as they saw it too.

"ARRRRRRRRRGH!" All the readers cried in exasperation at the author's waiting to tell them.

"ARRRRRRRRRGH!" The author cried, as her ears hurt from everybody yelling so much.

"ENOUGH!" cried the thing which was sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head, which just so happened to be some pale queasy looking fellow's face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were pale and flabby. Instead of an evil overlord look, he apparently went for the computer nerd ensemble.

"Phew," he rasped. "Do you know how long I've been in that effin' turban? Jesus, it gets hot....anyway, come to me, my minions! I summon you, nye nye!"

Suddenly, a bunch of wizards and witches ran in, puffing and panting. Harry saw the stunt doubles of McGonagall, Snape, and others he didn't recognize. The real professors gaped at their twins, clearly highly startled even though they should've expected it--after all, FanfictionFantom is clearly a twisted, twisted author.

"You look like me!" the real McGonagall cried.

"Hey," the real hooked nose on legs whined, "why's my stunt double a _girl_?!"

"No time for that," cried faux-McGonagall. "Prepare to DIE, earthling scum!" The rest of the fakes arranged themselves behind her in a V-formation, karate-chopping thin air.

"Oh, God, I'm so scared," Hermione trembled. "There hasn't been such a resort to randomness since chapter one!"

Suddenly, when all hope seemed lost and the fakes were poised to attack our heroes, they heard a distant cry that grew louder and louder.

As the heroes heard it, they thought it sounded like a herald of hope, a cry of victory. The enemy trembled, fearful of the cry. And soon they were able to make out what it was saying:

"SnoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooop!"

As it got to the 'p' they heard a thump. Nancy had landed on the floor, having leaped from an unknown place, in a martial art position. He had some bling around his neck and a do-rag on his head. "I come bearing the power of the honky!" he cried. "And even you, Moldyvort, cannot counter true wangsta-ness! You've been keeping me and my homey-gs stoned all year, but you haven't won yet! Hiyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

With that, Nancy performed a kick impressive for a man his age and knocked Voldemort's face clear off Quirrell's head. "Dude, that's---that's---that's SO uncool!" Quirrell cried, advancing upon the rest of them.

"Hermione, quick!" Harry cried, hoping she'd understand and do what she did best.

She did. "Hey, professor, how do you kill a werewolf?" Quirrell's face went slack and blank. "I--I--NOOOOOO!" he cried as he burst into flame like so many teachers before him had. Hermione grinned like a beaver and high-fived Harry, accidentally knocking out some of his teeth. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"No pwobwem," Harry said, forcing a gaptoothed grin. Ron, done bawling over Quirrell's comment about how poor he was, had recovered also, but then Hermione ruined that too by saying, "Wow, Ron, you've begun to improve recovery every time someone mentions how poor you are," which only set him off again.

Of course, there was still the minions to reckon with. But then yet another being landed in the room, but with a much larger crash than the previous ones. It was--

"RABID!" Harry cried.

"Yeah, 'Arry, it's me! I've finally broken out of the drugged state I was being kept in all year and now am being extremely out of character by speaking calmly and rationally. Let me start over." He coughed. "Arrrrgh summat bowling flibbet did you grrrrrr they're made with farketto cheese. Ah, much better," he beamed.

"Rabid, where have you all been coming from? People keep landing from the ceiling," Hermione said inquisitively.

"Ah, didn't you know? Voldemort and his cronies got tired of having to go through that whole ordeal back there and made a shortcut through the kitchens." Rabid ignored the steam coming out of Harry's rather red ears. "Anyways, I'm here to arrrgh goooooby help you skalduja the rest of these....droooooollll....bad guys."

"But Rabid," Ron said, eyeing the cronies, who had conveniently been crouched in attack formation for long enough so Rabid could converse with his fellows, "there's just too many of them...we'll never be able to fend them off. And we don't know who has which subject so we can't get rid of 'em the same way we did Quirrell."

But Rabid wasn't paying attention. In fact, he was looking rather green. "Rabid? You all ri--" Harry began.

Before he could finish, Rabid had fully regurgitated the random readers he'd eaten a few chapters ago. Harry looked at him, confused.

The random readers stood up and ran over to the phony teachers. Since they were experts, they of course knew every single event, teacher, and plot hole in every book so far. Fake professors began bursting into balls of flame left and right, and soon the random readers had finished their job and went off to annoy some other amature author. "We did it!" everybody cheered.

Then Harry turned to Voldemort's face lying on the ground. It was muttering curses, but since it had landed face-down, no one could hear what it was saying. "What do we do to get rid of it?" he asked.

"Why, Harry, that's an easy one! Jiminy marmalade!" Nancy cried with a grin. "We'll sell it to fans on Ebay!"

"Ahhh," Ron smiled. "Good ole Ebay."

"What would YOU know about it?" Hermione inquired nastily. "Your family's too poor to afford a computer, much less the internet." Ron began crying yet again, and Harry, who was incredibly wimpish, fainted in a dead heap.

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OK, that's it for this chapter. I know it was amazingly short, but the new chapter's already written and will be posted up soon once I get enough reviews. It'll be a sort of wrap-up, fill-in-the-plotholes, epilogue sort of thing. I'm so proud of myself for sticking through with this thing. I am slightly considering starting one for the second book, but it'd prolly hafta wait till next summer or something. Maybe over all the school breaks we have, but then updates will definitely not be frequent. Anyways, the next chapter will most probably be the last. Thanx to everyone who stuck with me and came back to review time to time, and recent reviewers. I love you guys! It means so much to me! Well, you know what to do.......

**REVIEWWWWWWWWWW (it's so like uncool to like not review dude. That's effin' wrong, man.) I'm gonna wait till I get 90 reviews in total till I post the next chapter, so everybody review. I wanna have 100 by the time it's over.**

**!Gracias!**


	11. Chapter Eleven: The End?

I've been dreaming of finishing writing this thing, but now that I have it feels oddly sad. Thanks to all who reviewed: Jenny, Black Triforce, Caitie, WritingU.S.A, Always Peach, heartdamoose, and Kalira. Whoever you are, I forgive you I guess. We all have bad days. And a review's a review.

This is the last one of these I'll have to do for this story (sniffle): disclaimer: if, eleven chapters in, you still haven't realized that I AM NOT J.K. ROWLING, then I really don't see the point of telling you now. But here I go anyway: I don't own her stuff. Or Thomas the Tank Engine or Reese's Puffs or Legos. Jeepers...now enjoy....

**Chapter Eleven: The End?**

Something gold was twinkling up above him. It was the Golden Squid! He had to win the game or Wood's unibrow would devour him. He grabbed for it. THWAK. Fist met bone. "My bad," Harry said offhandedly to Nancy, whose eyes were rolling in pain. It hadn't been the Squid after all, just Nancy's giant gold pilot goggles.

"Quite alright, Harry! Blorghie!" Nancy assured him, holding his head to straighten out his vision. "You were out for quite a while. Don't be ashamed, young man. This only proves that you are an incredible pussy. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all. Anyways, thank you for what you did. Not only did you stall the creep that raped Santa, but you also made us five dollars off Ebay."

"Welcome," Harry said. "So the reason you and Rabid were acting strange all year was that he was keeping you stoned?"

"Oh no, not at all, this is the way we are normally! Jibbo!" Nancy said cheerfully. "But he was drugging us to be unaware of his presence, and that's the best I can explain it. As you can see, I have also transformed you back to your normal self, since the author seemed to have forgotten the fact that you got terribly deformed after drinking those potions."

"Thank y--hold on," Harry frowned. "Did you say we _stalled _Voldemort? Not defeated?!"

"Oh, no, Harry. You'll be facing him at least five more times and it will only get harder. This was just the tip of the iceberg."

"WHAT?!" Harry cried in anger. "I don't have time to beat him up every year! This is--this is so unfair!" After he got himself under control, he finally remembered the object he'd stolen so long ago. "But--but then where's the stone?" Harry asked. "Did he get it?"

"It's right here, honky," Nancy said, pulling out the bling bling he'd been wearing earlier and opening the large locket to show Harry the stone inside. "I found it in your room and took it."

Harry erupted with rage. "YOU WENT IN MY ROOM AND WENT THROUGH MY STUFF?!" he cried, scrabbling for the stone. In his haste, he accidently knocked it out of Nancy's locket-bling-bling and it fell to the floor, where it shattered.

Nancy frowned. "Hmph. And Gandalf told me the only way to destroy it would be to throw it into Mount Doom...crazy bloke, I always said..."

Harry chose to be quiet, happy he wasn't about to be sent off to Mount Doom with a bunch of hobbits and girly men. "Anyways," Nancy continued. "Voldemort and the fake professors were keeping us all drugged through the lima bean soup we ate every day. But now things can return to normal. Spork! And I am awarding you and your friends 500,000 million points each for breaking rules and being pompous jerks! HOORAY!"

Confetti fell from the ceiling of the infirmary, and Madame Pomfrey ran in to investigate. "What are you doing? What is this sparkly stuff in the air? Out, Nancy! It's time for the victim's--er, patient's, medicine."

In the days that followed, Harry came to realize that the nurse had never been switched with a stunt double in the first place, and was as sadistic as ever. By the time he'd come out of the hospital wing, he was just happy to be alive. Then he and the gang, including Hermione, who'd been changed back from a giant yellow Lego block, skipped off merrily to beat up Malfoy for some good ole-fashioned fun. Afterwards, they drank insecticide and ate some Reese's Puffs to celebrate their victory.

Strangely, there were no big changes after the fight with Voldemort. They still ate lima bean soup every day, albeit drug-free, and out of troughs too. They still slept in cots and flew whatever stack of flying objects McGonagall found lying around somewhere for Squidditch. Nancy still threw weapons at Rabid, who still frothed and ate children, replacing them with robots. Monty the entertaining troll had gone back to his studio in Troll Land. Other than the fact that the teachers actually taught their subjects, and didn't burst into balls of flame, nothing had changed. Harry was rather disappointed, but no matter how many times he pounded his fists into walls, knocking down portraits that began cussing at him, Hogwarts stayed the same.

"Really nothing you can do about it, chum," Jason informed him one day. "It's always been this way. And really, how could the author ever think of writing a sequel if this place was _normal_?"

"And if you don't like it, chap," Freddie threatened in a low voice, extending his claws, "Then you're welcome to leave..."

And leave he did. But not for escape. It turned out that summer had come before Harry knew it. Soon it was time for the gang to board the Thomas the Tank Engine and leave for home. Harry was delighted to leave this place, and giggled at the prospect of torturing the zombie-Dursleys over the summer. Then came the feast on the last day of term, where Gryffindor of course was named the winner of the House Cup, because good guys always win, and everyone devoured rotten pumpkin hash left over from Halloween and toasted each other with pumpkin juice and, in Harry's case, insecticide. After throwing up all over his cot, Harry took his packed suitcase, in which he had placed something very secret, and joined Ron and Hermione, who were standing in the Great Hall with the Neville-robot, dodging falling meat cleavers.

They all hugged each other and sobbed with relief at the prospect of leaving. They'd all changed back into Muggle clothes and Ron was wearing a lime green dress, much to everyone's disgust. Then Rabid showed up at the train to say farewell, devouring a hippopotamus and brandishing his huge pink machete. "I wanna drive!" he roared. He finished his hippo, ate the conductor, and hopped into the driver's seat. The train started off with a roar.

"Well, goodbye Hogwarts," Harry said happily.

"Don't forget, Harry, there's always next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, and the year after--" Prissy started, mistaking Harry's relief for sadness and trying to cheer the bloke up.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" Harry yelled.

At Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, promising them he would write (sadly). It seemed this friendship deal was harder than he thought. Then he climbed in the car with the zombies and drove away from King's Cross. He looked back at Rabid devouring fat children in the train. Then he looked down into his trunk at the flying motorized cart he'd shrunk and smuggled away into his luggage and smiled. Somewhere in a galaxy far, far away, an author finished typing the last words of her precious monstrosity, and smiled back.

**FIN.**

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I did it, I did it, I did it! It's absolutely not perfect,and it's full of mistakes, but I DID IT! This is the first story I've ever finished. I hope you all enjoyed it and it took your mind off all the unfunny, serious things in the world that we hate to think about, and maybe made you laugh a little bit. Thanks for being patient, and thanks especially if you reviewed. **Now cmon and REVIEW! GET ME TO A HUNDRED GUYS! I'LL LOVE YOU!** I promise to thank you in the sequel. I broke my promise to myself and begun planning the next parody. Like I said, it'd have to wait, and would take a while to write cuz the plot's so complicated. But maybe someday....yeah...but for now, I'm taking a nice break from writing, which I can finally do without feeling bad and irresponsible. And you know why? It's cuz I FREAKIN' DID IT MAN!

LOVE YOU!

---F.F.F.


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